words
that work
they
don't know what he means
no
offense intended
pliable
mind bended
into
positions
he
won't soon understand
holding
the future
in
the mind from the hand
spouting
truth skin covered
in
ink they can call him crazy
can't
say he doesn't think
not
satisfied with complacency
somehow
he still sits
pushing
thoughts into word's clothing
looks
funny
behind
closed doors
keeping
thoughts from
becoming
vocal pen creates
the
pitch would you scratch
without
an itch...
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