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the day I become an artist

I already am…

the day I recover my voice

it will all make sense

it’s easy to sleep

it’s easy to not know

To push the clouds away

and see the wall between yourself and a dream

to be reminded your own resistance placed brick by brick

what a nightmare I am starting to feel sick

So much that needs to come out

Will that stage feel like bliss?

I could travel the world and it wouldn’t be enough

I need the stage like my lungs need air

I inhale for a scream

Words recognized is the dream

It seems so easy, but years are what I need

The inability to commit has been the death of me

But I have opened the casket door time and time again

I won’t stop until I can build a wave and send

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