Crowded

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Sometimes its hard to be yourself

when you're standing in a crowd.

Shoulders brushing,

elbows touching,

Their voices all so loud.

 

It's hard to see inside yourself

with all those people in the way.

Blocking, yelling, pushing, fighting,

it's hard to stand you're ground.

 

So you stride forth

into the belly of the beast.

Carving out your own path.

Fall hard down, get back up,

Don't let their hands get down your throat 

and steal your heart away. 






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