You begin with discipline
One of us cannot be poor
You begin with a question
One of us will ask for more.
This is how it is divided:
Yours, mine, theirs
A house with four corners,
Three levels and no stairs.
For each mention of health
Seven candles are lit
We feel the dissolving inside
The bones no longer fit.
We thought that we had years
Stretching before us, warm and strong
We have found the path to be cold
One of us always wrong.
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