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Oct 2017
Ah, this **** fluctuation
I’m sorry I can’t  
I can’t write an empowering anthem
My voice is weak
It seems so inadequate  
To mourn in front of strangers
But I’m getting good at it
& God is getting stranger
When I was thirteen
I suppose I was dumb
I thought that I could be  
The mightiest of all
Now I am numb
(I must have been so ******* dumb!)
Planning, planning, planning
& writing it all down in my little black book
I’ll be seventeen tomorrow  
Can you imagine?
Five years of dragging my desperate self
Just to tell myself -
I think you’re dying
(no, you’re not!)
You keep on trying, to push the wall
(Baby, keep on kicking, keep on kicking till it falls)
It doesn’t move, it doesn’t move at all
I recorded this poem : https://youtu.be/EvKc-TXeJm4
Wes Rabbit
Written by
Wes Rabbit  17/M/Soul Asylum
(17/M/Soul Asylum)   
370
   Dylan Mcconnell
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