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Waking up in the mornin', picking my writing utensil. Pulling out my composition book, my brain trying to settle. Thinking to myself about becomin' a star. I can imagine myself just tryna live large.
Behind this false face, remain flawless conflictions- A mask of such wrath, and endless contradiction Good deeds are unseen, Anger is routine- never in between, because bliss is obscene
You are my growth.
We are given, only one body, to treat any way we wish.We are given one purpose, to define, why it is we each exist;Given such range of emotion, entangled in life's passionate kiss.