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Visible to me is not what they see
my face stares back and I know all the truths
I feel the virility and every grip of all the anguish
the horror of each pause of gentility
There are words I confess and others I conceal
intended for protection and not deception
enforced for the ambition that was birthed with my first breath
there is something I am expected to say
which conflicts with what I am required to do
and so suddenly it involves others
they find something valid and pursue it
and when the image exposes itself as flawed
it is blamed regardless that there was no claim
rather it was an idealism never intended to be veritable
only chosen to be worthwhile
unlike me
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