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A constricted heart, A lonely cry, The broken parts, All want to die. A lone tear, Falls down my cheek, Overwhelming fear, Makes me weak. I shake against my binds,
I'm not perfect I don't have the perfect figure I don't wear weave I don't wear makeup Sorry I'm not perfect I'm me I'm slim, very slim I have locs, and they're unruly
Polo and Silk, dark-skinned and coffee-colored eyes, Terell Kenneth Lewis Levels the tux Upon his chest. Momma, openly nostalgic of the times of living on her own
Don't ask me if I want to be X. I will be what I desire. If I wanted to be a boy, Don't you think I would be? If I wanted to be a musician, Then that wouldn't be a mystery. If I wanted to be skinny
I could have been anyone Even the person you wanted me to be I would say I’m sorry So sorry for being Me So let’s go back to the beginning
You ask me, If [I] were a word in the dictionary and someone flipped to [my] page, what would they find there? Essentially, what makes [me]…[me]? How did [I] become the person [I am] today?
I am thoughts yet I am not,For how could thoughts be made to walk?How could thoughts be ones to speakWhen no lips they have to seal?People talk and people sayThoughts are what we are these days.
You think you know me But are you inside me? Do you see the world from my point of view? Think my thoughts, feel my feelings?
You say you’ll always be there Listen to me As if you really care So many things flow through my head
Every morning Like pulling the blankets on Rather than off Gotta cover up That ugly attitude So my momma won’t see Better cover up My hot, sexy shoulder