What I take, takes me,
shouts out my identity.
What I own owns me.
Come, visit my home.
Where you sit and what you see
paint more than I say.
"You've got so much stuff!"
Writ you well, my form you lay
lie all about me.
I don't need to tell
the story of who I am.
It’s live around you.
Ask me where I've been?
But when I took it, the fine swine became mine, no...?
Practica: Putting the accent on accents
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