Walt Whitman

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I feel electric walking through a park engulfed with happy princes, children skipping, people playing to their laughter. singing strings of guitars in this park the mirth of drooping spilling coins in their cases.
I belong to myself and only to myself While it is a great responsibility, I proudly take it on.   I, now twenty-years-old in perfect physical health Need to remember this when darkness envelopes my mental state
I hear America singing "freedom" for everyone. I hear their hypocritical songs, singing long through the night. I hear the rich belting their greed-filled, boasting songs
i hear the world screaming, the sickening wails i hear; those of the hopeless—each of them a separate and eerie tune the homeless shouting his, humble and strong as he walks through cold and empty streets
I dedicate myself to public speaking Peaking subtly along with the days and nights and weeks and whatever comes next Sometimes I talk too much It’s not enough to always think after I Open my mind up,
“There was a child went forth everyday; And the first object he look’d upon, that object he became; And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.”
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