There is a feeling I get
It is perfect and warm
My only wish is to show others
I can't
I cant paint
I cant draw
I cant sing it
I cant play it
I only know one way
And I hate it
It taints the feeling
Leaving me ashamed and cold
All that is left is me and myself
The feeling is gone
To come again tomorrow
And to leave me longing
For something I can never have
Everyone has their niche
But I am left in the breeze
And silent
It is because I am not making noise
Or because no one is there to listen?

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