Sometimes I feel like the things that matter most are out of reach
and what I wouldn’t give to find a kindred,
someone else to catch this drift
There’s a special hustle spirit in someone who will endure not only a marathon of spontaneous dance routines, but do so in the early summer humidity of the Big Easy
How did it come to be that in 2017 a poem written in 1935 can ring so true?
I get upset when I consider who does not and who really does gets me. It is not a deal breaker, though.
Four years old
All you wanna do is ride around
I’m straight struggling
Another place to hide it all
So many times I find myself in a struggle because of it.
One last breath ’til the tears start to wither
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