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So here I am rhyming again
I’m so tired, I’m so drained
I’m done work but I’m emotionally strained
I wish I wasn’t so sensitive anymore
I wish that I could just open up that door
No, no that just isn’t true
What I believe is between me and God, not between me and you
Who am I, who is you? Do you understand me? Do I understand you
Do I accept you? Do you accept me?

I grow a field of rice with a single grain
I write like I have nothing to lose, but then again I have nothing to gain
So I sit here, bop my head and think about how I’ve been trained
Then I think what is wrong with my own brain
I think I’m loosing it, I am NO longer sane
The sink is unplugged, all the waters drained
And i’ll be walking around in the future with a high tech cane

I write in rhymes like dr. Seus
I talk about war conflict, I talk about a truce
I talk about my pain, but all you ask for is proof
and I sit here and take it, like I dont have a roof
over my head, and I should be worrying about my future instead
So rather then just sitting here, typing
I shouldn’t be writing, I’m not good enough
In fact I should be practicing my vocal skills
And bring it to a level that everyone might find ill
But I wonder if I even have the will?
Am I a well of talent, or am I an empty hole with no soul
Waiting for someone to just console while I get old

My head is scattered with white hair
I’m only 24 years old, it shouldn’t be there
White hair at this age, it just not fair
And, I cant bare to see my head go bare
I swear I wouldn’t care if I didn’t have a layer of white on my head
Is it a sign of character or a sign from the dead

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