Can you tell me

Can you tell me
How come we have become so obsessed 
with the idea that we are inadequate?
And so we need to be filled
we need to be completed.
We hunger for parts that we believe will complete us.
“I need you, you complete me.”
And yet at the same time 
ironically, absurdly,
defending to the ends of our wits 
that we do not need such things
that we are fine by ourselves
Deny, deny, deny.
“I don’t need you.”
"I don't need anyone."

Can you tell me?