Middle Name

Theft is not my middle name,
but it’s pretty near my last.
The future’s not my motto,
but it’s closer than the past.
My names have left me two by two.
My faces all but look alike.
My voice is strangely set.
It isn’t set by water;
it isn’t set by tears;
it’s set by thieving through the years
and wrestling with bones that never could pronounce my name anyway.

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