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Untitled
I feel like a stranger in my own home
is it the house that has become estrange
or is it me? What hath little did change
Walking around as your treasured drone
Crushing my spirit with no room to roam
Whose fault for my suffers in a cage
Our silly games playing years up on stage
I am your precious little glass stone
Numbing from your simple touch of cold love
In your mind you think it’s good for me
Though it’s the very thing I’m sick of
Days in chains, dark haze lifts to see
Forevermore still mind mourning dove
That I have always had the key to be
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