The Analyst

I've got to watch out for my typos. 

My imperfections cloud my judgement

I forget which way is up or was it down

I hate that I get turned around. 

Struggles make me ill. 

Disappointment makes me still...

Still, I can't be still because I've got 

to fix my typos.

I've got to be the best

and I've got to tend to this mess. 

I've got to get an A on this test. 

Maybe I should rest..

rest, I can't rest because I've got 

to fix all these typos. 

Line after line

page after page 

the story has to change

it can't stay the same

because my diligence is real 

it doesn't matter how I feel

MAN THESE TYPOS. 

if I could just understand 

that I hold the key in my hand 

to unlock his door and her door. 

I know WHAT'S IN STORE    FOR THEIR FUTURE.

they're counting on me...to make it a bit more easy.

But I've got all these typos...

This poem is about: 
Me
My community

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