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I was strange/ Books and papers were my pleasure/ Unlike the kids who wanted treasure that one could not afford/   The shelves overflowed with my stories/
I wish I was normal. I wish I was just like you. Well, maybe not “JUST” like you, but close enough. Close enough to fit in like you. Close enough to blend in with the crowd
addicted to zoning out but still learning about growing out my mind is always filled with doubt  as I drop the ashes into the grout I wonder why I'm a social drought
He put a razor inside my lunch pale Along with heads or tails I know he's hinting death As I hide behind my veil   Need a pair of clippers To cut my cutthroat nails And I red pair of scissors 
Don’t bend yourself To fit the mold. Break it; make it yours.   Be the person You want to be. Ignore their hateful scorn.   Step back and take A look at yourself.
I am an American Born and raised  But Society tells me that my race was enslaved. "WAS" I say  Because obviously we still are  To me we are everything but by far.  
Its a shame i'm seeing more coffins then diplomas More babies, more mothers, no fathers just sperm donors And life just don't Condon us to reach for those personas that developed into careers with fancy houses and chandlers.
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