Real Me

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its always been you you've been there all along the perfect harmony to my everlasting song you took my breath away you made me proud of who i am today you helped me to see who i really am
What's the point of talking nicely, if you are always stepped over on? What's the point of asking politely, if you never get what you want and need? What's the point of being good, if you are treated second-rate?  
You don't know me Not the real me You don't know the boy inside me The boy that I am You don't know the tears I shed The many times I cry myself to sleep You don't know the me that loves girls
"The dreams of a girl Not her own thoughts Deeper i fell I was taught, How to kill. Only in dreams Would i see Such a thing The horror seeped through No longer i trust
You don't wanna see the real me  You don't care  Why do you act like you care Is it because maybe if I believe you for just one second  I might pull back my layers
  Never have I seen anything about myself as flawless; The cuts that once covered my body, like paint strokes on a damaged canvas,
Just like that, I curl inside the empty cavern between rib bones and hip joints,  just like that,
Every day single, I fake my life Not in my morals, or my personality. What's fake are my emotions. The ones that I choose to show, but in reality it's this mask I choose to wear.
I rap like a rapper I Po et like a poet My mind is abstract But who really knows it   If I am a box A square full of roses Concealed to the world Who really knows it?  
The universe where entropy increases, chaos is truth. I am the strong and the weak force which try to stabilize the inner elements of the heavens,
  Makeup is on
I choose life over death. I choose living with the rest. Fighting, fighting through hell. Ringing all these bells for help.
Helpless. An intense electrical pain filters through my scared body. My unlucky limbs become violently uncontrollable. Shaking. Trembling. Tense. Afraid. I scream in my head for it to stop!
How difficult is it to simply be ourselves? At a young age we're all taught that who we are isn't enough- Not tall enough, they say. Not pretty enough, they say. Not smart enough, they say.
Very well groomed, always clean Unkept, unshaven, and periodically obscene Focused, driven, and ready to work Distracted, halted, forever needing a job I am the man with which you would share your life story
I differ in home than I do in school, in stores, in Restaraunts; in places out of home. When it comes to school, the strong love and affection I Feel for my friends, my adoration, hide within my Bodies' boundaries.
Who gives a damn about the real me. Nobody  Nobody really cares about who you are Whenever you talk to someone you are just speaking to their repersentative People who try to be real are shunned 
Behind the Curtain,  I am a mere man, Trying to live life the best I can, Just like the other 7 billion people on Earth.   Behind the Curtain, I am a dreamer,
My eyes are the windows to my soul What's inside of me does it glitter like gold? Take a sneak peek just to see the real me to whom I express my individuality
I am Marley, The child of the long lost south. You have never met me, but heard of me by mouth. Bombarded with questions since the day I have arrived
You are hilarious, the joker, the funny one the comic relief Quips fall off Your tongue like water and raise off Your body like sunlight and You
“Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.” I am just a woman who hides behind things. I know one thing is for certain,
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