I am war with myself. My chest is in pain and I am ready to explode.
I could have so much to talk about but I rather not explain for I may just let it all out.
Then, in the back of my mind, I complain to myself and know that this is not myself.
I am thinking that maybe I could believe that I am growing up, that I am still this child.
Shunned out from the world, for what reasons I may never know, I keep on.
Everything will be punished in its rightful place for I am not the enemy. I was just here.
I am seen as a passerby with a secret, as how some people make me feel.
That, if all its worth, I am just a nobody.
Why me, then? Why do I keep on failing? I am not the failure. I do not want that.
Lead me, hold me, and keep me close, for the next thing you know, I may not be there anymore.
Solidity kept from the conversations we both spoke on.
It'd been a heavy-hearted work of staggering genius.
I only kept this away from you so I would not be looked down upon.
Why do things have to be so complicated? Why do I have these emotions??
Keep it up and you might just die from them...or would already say you have?
I am ease for the moment, knowing that music will hold me over until I hear it again.
Hold me tight, and don't let me go, otherwise, I will be gone and known to disappear.
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