Who am I

I know the person I don’t want to be

Or the webs I do not wish to be caught 

Some of which as follies,as lessons taught

Yet the most disturbing ones are the one that i know the consequences of

But I tread on them out of curiosity. 

As I lie on this bed of thorns

I wonder where are the flowers lost. 

A joke, a second guess is all I’ve be

A scar that yet cease to appall 

But more than anything I wish to be

Be the best version of me. 

Soon I shall believe in one that’s yet a dream

And on that I shall lose my speech 

For that me shall resurrect that is yet deceased. 


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