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Who Am I? Who am I to defend the ranting and ravings of others Let alone myself? The insights of Christ or cliché’s of visionaries The reaching of mathematicians Who am I to offer console to your struggle? When I struggle with you Just don’t wear it so matter of fact-ly Embodiment of all that I am right here Fingernail clippings spittle Blood and sweat sliding down pages Like dead insects on walls smashed for being curious Investigating with Colossus’ eye Only one Field of perception limited to what’s directly in front of me Mind renovating past Building on new rooms Better housing for new characters Crucified in photo albums Pinned down like magnets on a refrigerator Advertising excess baggage See I don’t lie Words may dance around a little But countenance holds all truth Carrying my sins with sunken shoulders Crumbs of innocence Downcast eyes looking for the droppings The feces Where I misplaced faith ‘Kittens who lost their mittens’ See I don’t lie Some just don’t know how to read Falling into the weight of spoken word Because Americans have lost their linguistics Short Blunt New Yorker But everything’s sincere Everything From a blade of grass Someone’s tongue in your mouth Hand in hand talking of future to fuck you It’s all sincere Just different chapters And mood changes with scenery Who am I to apologize? To make room for error When nothing is calculated Dreams are just that – dreams You can only see with eyes closed Goals are posters on the wall Road-signs Accumulation of distance known Only because someone else has been there Doesn’t mean you or I will Who am I to entertain the consistency of love or belief? Find that in children with joysticks in their hands Where life is still outside of windows And hasn’t crept in to every breath Asleep or awake ‘Playtime!’ Don’t ask me for that I can’t give it to you Just this |
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