The Little Things

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With my finger’s little fury, I peck out these little black words
That crawls on this paper like little black birds.

It’s all the same you see
Little teen angst is all I can be

With my small town charm
I truly don’t mean any harm

You’ve got to believe me
I am spinning lies most honestly

But who cares?
Let’s just watch his mind stretch till it tears.

In the mean time my little birds keep on crawling
And my rhymes keep my little mind sprawling





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