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A year is the blink of an eye That sheds a tear, That makes things clear. A lot can change, And stay the same.   As the eye opens And sees the light What once was a blur
The light, the dark, the shade. There's no bette feeling than knowing our place. eventually, somehow, without trying, it slowly starts to fade away. Before the memory fades, I capture it. Flash before my eyes,
Who am I Behind the filter of a picture I am a man with very much to remember I have a story that is not yet over Black man living past 18 is the luck of a 4 leaf clover The story that is not told
Through an Instagram lens its often hard to see the bigger picture Every post is worth a thousand words And some of them are meant to injure
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