Life gives us choices,
some in direct access,
others hiding in disguises.
What do we choose to see?
Is this who I should be?
And it hurts, it hurts
in tears i want to burst,
inside my rage, combust.
I can name it, direct it and feel it,
Is that enough or is not it?
In a ball I want to curl,
but straight ahead I go on,
with just myself to rely upon.
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