Give Up...

December 2, 2010
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Your footprints on my back,
my cheek on cool ground,
I hear several cracks,
but make no sound.
Your expectations on my shouler,
your leash on my neck,
you tell me I am over
that I'm nothing but a speck
On your white T
Oh, when, when will I learn
that every burn
should have made me see.

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