May 15, 2009
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I enter the room
And its all eyes on me
Each set with a
Different backround
They all have a
Story to tell
But their tounges
Are tied

As I march
Throught the row
I can almost feel
The holes they’re
Buring in the back
Of my head
Each with a different
Reason to judge

But they don’t
Know me and
Can’t know me
Until they take
A stroll in my
Shoes and see
What it is like
To live my life

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