Cans

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I like to think of people as cans, tin cans.
They are fine until you get up close
And personal and cut em open
Once that happens, you can still keep it all in
But it’s tough, it’s easy to spill
And if it spills you’ll know you’ve mucked up
You go to put it all back in the can
But you’ll cut yourself
On the sharp edge youve just made
It’s silly really; you will get mad at the can,
Say fuck it and pour the soup in the pot
And boil it down.

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