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Aug 2017
Don't try to understand me,
You'll only confuse yourself,
I don't fit in,
No mold can shape me,
I am a question mark on society,
I don't know myself,
So how can anyone else,
I am an oxymoron,
Quiet.
But still so loud in my approach,
Happy yet sad,
Hot yet cold,
I do not know myself..
So how can anyone else?
Sane,
Yet insane all the same,
Sometimes, I feel like there's parts missing from my brain,
A frankinstein...
A monster come to life.
Made of various parts,
Dead but alive,
Talk about myself?
You want to know who I am?
Where do I start...
During my creation I suppose God misplaced a couple of parts,
There are a few screws loose up top,
And slightly lower down,
Take a sharp turn to the left,
You will notice there is no rhythmic beating in my breast,
I am a Mona Lisa.
Unfinished, but there.
She was missing something,
And so am I....



My heart isn't there.
Written by
Harley Quinzel  London
(London)   
137
 
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