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Drum

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Playing with the ring on my finger,
I think of all those skinny, beautiful girls
that actually look quite like popsicle sticks
all just joined together to make vaguely human forms.
We all see them march to the beat of one drum,
trying to be 'perfect'.
Welcome to life, freaks:
you are more irregular than the rest of us,
you scare the majority of us,
you are alone.

Maybe if we could all lather some color onto them,
they wouldn't look so chalky,
staring out from my picture frame.
If we could all paint them, would we use water colors,
so it'd be easier to give them color?
Maybe we could add a bright pink headband,
show them in front of an open window.
Maybe the effect would be electric.
Maybe they would finally be alive.
Maybe they could now listen to the beautiful sound of the harp,
instead of those harsh drums they're used to.

Step down from your pedestal,
free your minds from that one rhythm.
Lose yourself in truth, cover up all you're used to
because truly, it's the only way to live.
I would know, I've been there
but you see:
now I'm here
and I never want to go back





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