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It’s not that you’re wrong, it’s just that you’re different. And for that crime you face sentence. The way you dot your I’s, the way you cross your t’s.
We all begin as lumps of clay Shapeless Colorless Full of potential   I was a small lump But I knew what I could do I knew I had so much to offer And with that thought, I grew  
I have an illness. I have an illness you cannot see. I have an illness you cannot see that is terminal. I forgive.   I forgive you when you warn me. I should have been more grateful.
You see me on Friday nights  Under all those shiny, bright lights Yelling for the win.  You'd think I'm the prettiest  That everyone loves to be around me 
The minds of this generation Are twistedBullying and tormentingWarp the brain Thought processes Become muddyParanoia settles inThe walls creep closerAdolescents get nervous
Pain nobody can see, hidden from a shield of my own making
I am perfect beyond imperfection Nothing can comprehend this lesson That the rise and fall of every good king
The table stays the wood is grey  a light sull yellowed tingy yellow brown when on the bench  the hobo sleeps the homo weeps the political correctness steeps and for weeks and weeks
She’s the one Locked deep inside, With angry thorns Pressed into the Softness of her heart. Every day words
I am who I am.  This I cannot change I try to fit the molds of other people  I want to please others, But when I try,  I am unhappy.    He says I should be a doctor.  A doctor. 
It's all about the money, It's all about the popularity. I don't think I fit in with it. Don't want to be a part of it.   I tried I couldn't handle it, I took my pride and I ran with it.
  Peers and youth clatter and clank Minds nearly filled with blank Always looking so fine and swank A job and work a threat or a prank                 Parents diving into their savings bank
We as blacks Grew up with the struggle of the nation on our backs Being told that the skin that is attached to our bodies are a curse to our soul We believe that being different makes us a queer in our "group"
Ten feet deep in eternal sleep Fell from a cliff with the rest of the snow white sheep I look up in envy of the black one who doesn't weep Lying in this red valley My body, blood, and soul Is it's
  My friends call me mom. Jokingly, not in bad content.  I keep my friends out of trouble:  "go to work instead of going to that party", "Have you done your homework yet?"  
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