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No Questions Answered.
If I went to a professional they'd probably say it started when I was younger
Which begs the question why it didn't affect my older brother
Maybe it's just the way my brain is wired
I'm just so ******* sick and tired
Of being so **** sick and tired
Why am I always so ******* tired?
I just go through the motions
All the days just blend together
The only thing keeping me going
Is the hopes that this won't last forever
I can say that I care about a few things
But it'd be only to myself that I feed lies
There's a lot I need to get off my chest
But it's hard when I have to make it rhyme
I don't consider myself a poet
More of an alocoholic with a pen
I get myself into a drunken haze
And spill all the thoughts in my head
You're probably wondering where this is going
And I can't say that I have the answer
I kind of just type away
Until I start to feel a little better.
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