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
The Gift
I'm a nothing
but in my own world
I'm a fucking dynamo
and no one can tell me different
sometimes these dark skies
have a beautiful way to them
like when it rains
and my anger takes control
the boss is testing me again
about to grab my pin
stab it in his fucking head
instead I take it to paper
it's my greatest release
I think this world needs
a little more emotion
can't keep holding that shit in
looking like you're a bit tense
craft that pain into a bird
watch it fly off
slept on a sunny day
woke up to a zombie apocalypse
but instead of rotten flesh
they all look like marionettes
where did you get those strings, puppet?
was it with the drugs?
or with the suppression?
I see through that crooked smile
there's invisible tears falling
as they come closer to me
I run
saying, not this time!
I think this world needs
a little more rage
can't keep suppressing that shit
looking like you're a bit tense
build yourself a boat
send it off to sea
listening to rock music
wearing all black
with an attitude like fuck it
a close friend showed me their true colors
stabbed my back
and I haven't seen my family in years
the sound in my mom's voice
lets me know I'm a stranger
it's enough to make me want to die
but then I scream out
bleed into my pin
I got a gift
and it's called poetry
but in my own world
I'm a fucking dynamo
and no one can tell me different
sometimes these dark skies
have a beautiful way to them
like when it rains
and my anger takes control
the boss is testing me again
about to grab my pin
stab it in his fucking head
instead I take it to paper
it's my greatest release
I think this world needs
a little more emotion
can't keep holding that shit in
looking like you're a bit tense
craft that pain into a bird
watch it fly off
slept on a sunny day
woke up to a zombie apocalypse
but instead of rotten flesh
they all look like marionettes
where did you get those strings, puppet?
was it with the drugs?
or with the suppression?
I see through that crooked smile
there's invisible tears falling
as they come closer to me
I run
saying, not this time!
I think this world needs
a little more rage
can't keep suppressing that shit
looking like you're a bit tense
build yourself a boat
send it off to sea
listening to rock music
wearing all black
with an attitude like fuck it
a close friend showed me their true colors
stabbed my back
and I haven't seen my family in years
the sound in my mom's voice
lets me know I'm a stranger
it's enough to make me want to die
but then I scream out
bleed into my pin
I got a gift
and it's called poetry
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