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Aug 2014
We are not ourselves
We are merely mosaics with pieces from the people around you

I have my mothers eyes
They see quick through the lies

I have my fathers smile
Its one of child that refuses to die

I have my grandfathers thick skin
It protects my being

I have my grandmothers hands
They are gentle and firm

I have a cops ears
Because I've heard just about every insult

I have a blind mans walk
Because I'm afraid of choosing a direction

I am made up of many different parts stitched together with laws, morals, and beliefs and within was placed a heart of my own. I was stapled shut by a divine power and left to dwell in this world

But it is up to everyone here
The Frankenstein's of the world
Will you add a piece to me to better or worsen me
Am I a monster or a creation.
Christopher Mata
Written by
Christopher Mata  Texas
(Texas)   
578
   katemu, --- and Ariel Baptista
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