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You will not see my name in history books, / Nor will a statue be erected in my image. / / No road will be written in my name, / My home will not be an attraction for Tourists. / / My contribution will go unrecognized, / And my existence will befriend my flesh. / / I have endured hatred and disbelief, / To sign in to read more »
I used to be creative, / I used to write what I feel. / Now I have no character, / I have no feelin sign in to read more »
Singing along to the blissful melody of jazz rebels / as I inhale red paint from the dripping wet brush of employment, / the eye of heaven looks down on me / sizzling on a winter afternoon barefoot in contempt. / / Alone in my world / I would sneak a dance or two before / the shades of darkness are drawn sign in to read more »