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I take deep breaths inches away from the pillow I take deep breaths to center myself I am here I am now But have I forgotten who I am?    Am I the boy who went to New York on a weekend trip and visited MacDougal street and Washington Square park and didn't see a single folk singer?    Who ate a date cookie in Chinatown and a cannoli and little Italy because it felt right and good at the time    Am I the Woody Guthrie Pete Seeger wannabe who asked the audience to sing along to a song they didn't know and no one sang but you didn't care because the words were yours yet you didn't write them?    Who freshman year read On The Road and Howl and told himself he would be a poet and saw beauty in the world and thought about all the people with beating hearts    Who sophomore year got his heart smashed against the pavement but decided not to blame himself for convenience sake and is still reeling from his poor choices    Who took a trip with friends to the Ohio river and held rocks in his pocket because he was prepared to fight his way out if he had to    who fed his own delusion that he would ever fight his way out     who lied to himself that he had the spine to fight    Am I the one who read Siddhartha and vowed to be better and looked toward a golden and eternal time where the words would be simple    Who cried at Ginsberg who cried at Wolfe and who cried at the Bible because he knew what things were holy    Who drank tea to center himself who ran to keep himself in shape who had a good time because the world was full of love Or am I nothing more than what I am now Breathing inches away from my pillow Breathing to center myself So I can be here So I can be now
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
This Folk Punk Ballad is Actually Really Sad and Not Very Punk
I take deep breaths inches away from the pillow I take deep breaths to center myself I am here I am now But have I forgotten who I am?    Am I the boy who went to New York on a weekend trip and visited MacDougal street and Washington Square park and didn't see a single folk singer?    Who ate a date cookie in Chinatown and a cannoli and little Italy because it felt right and good at the time    Am I the Woody Guthrie Pete Seeger wannabe who asked the audience to sing along to a song they didn't know and no one sang but you didn't care because the words were yours yet you didn't write them?    Who freshman year read On The Road and Howl and told himself he would be a poet and saw beauty in the world and thought about all the people with beating hearts    Who sophomore year got his heart smashed against the pavement but decided not to blame himself for convenience sake and is still reeling from his poor choices    Who took a trip with friends to the Ohio river and held rocks in his pocket because he was prepared to fight his way out if he had to    who fed his own delusion that he would ever fight his way out     who lied to himself that he had the spine to fight    Am I the one who read Siddhartha and vowed to be better and looked toward a golden and eternal time where the words would be simple    Who cried at Ginsberg who cried at Wolfe and who cried at the Bible because he knew what things were holy    Who drank tea to center himself who ran to keep himself in shape who had a good time because the world was full of love Or am I nothing more than what I am now Breathing inches away from my pillow Breathing to center myself So I can be here So I can be now
daniel-robinson
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
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