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Mary Moussa Apr 2012
In my sister’s shoes, I sit here talking
Waiting for the moment she’ll walk in balking
I’m no impersonator, no, no ventriloquist
I don’t pretend to be so
I won’t pretend to be so
I feel more like an actor thrown on stage
Without a script
I lost my ID card somewhere around here
I think someone ran off with it
Stealing identities
My friends keep calling me by the wrong name now
No matter how I try
My corrections are taped over with permanence
I wonder when they’ll realize
It takes people a while you know
They discriminate what they shouldn’t
Choosing words they like over words they don’t
I hear love
Well I said hate
How hard is it to understand?
Clearly written out to comprehend
Just listen for once, no, no
Not ‘your’ definition of listen
The real one
Maybe then you’ll see
But probably not

— The End —