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Picking up a pencil-like Willem de Kooning I began to draw what I felt that day Every emotion flowing through 
All I need is freedom... Praises to the authority When majority Promoted white robes as a conformity Of your suppression Waiting too long for legal protection
Dragons do exist- I’ve glimpsed one Flying overhead But Camelot lies far away From the confines of my bed Dragons can breathe fire To battle a raging fever His voice booms and crackles
  We live in a world of practicality One where humans are reduced to machines and demanded to function to full capacity— to be perfect.  As students, we must rattle off
Trying to get by in this day and time Everyone wants to be accepted But no one can hear you at night when you cry Your emotions have now begun to be tested  
Day was fading. Patterns of clay terracotta and stone merged with a mud-laced Arno. They say   Dante's grave should rest in this place engraved in the marble of a church among frozen faces  
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