here I am with the poem
never knowing what comes next
an I'm here just to show them
even art could come in text
as they fall right on my shoulders
while the wind is getting colder
the very mold that came from boulders
sloth has left me more than vexed.
Can you feel it through the riots,
through the beats of every song?
Can you heal the ones left quiet,
and always sense if something's wrong?
Little girls going on diets,
sticking fingers down their necks.
Magazines tempt you to buy it,
paparazzi are insects.
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