Do you speak my language?

I know why you are bad and good.
Yes, you are as thick as a wood
Hardened by a dinky town and misunderstood,
You’ve been left to perish but refuse to be buried.

In flesh and spirit, pain is all you’ve been through:
I know your plenty isn’t up to an average few,
I know what it is to live without a food –
And drink water to assume you’re satisfied.

Buttons are stitched little things
But has commanding features
On the outfits termed beautiful,
This life is for both the wise and fool…

Every skin is prone to hemorrhage
You don’t necessarily act an age
To speak my language
For I shall know, if you live on stage.


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