post-it notes on the fridge
cell messages
and arguing at night because you "want to talk"
i yield
exhausted
earning invisible money that should put us into ultra-black by now
our house is a lie
i must've turned left when i should've made a right
on the road to my dreams
i played by society's silly rules
tried to Keep Right
merged, one-way
painted myself into a corner
dead end
why
afraid of paint on my sole
afraid of freedom on my soul
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