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Nov 2015
I'm not exactly who you think I am,
the words I speak, I do not think,
I read your mind and see what you need to hear,
so I talk it, hoping you're listening,
It's not entirely my fault,
I was born without a face, empty, and dull

You only see those with eyes,
so I pretend to see to get by,
maybe I'm too young, too late, and too old,
but all I've ever known is the night and her cold,
All I really want is a new beginning,
all I've ever wanted to see in you was a face smiling,

So I'll pretend to be something I'm not,
until my last shred of identity rots,
because you wouldn't like who I am
under all the clothes is a wolf made of scam,
a wolf, young, scared, and confused,
so much, he doesn't know his own howl from the moon
Frantz Saintil
Written by
Frantz Saintil  Gainesville
(Gainesville)   
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