Am I a so-called artist,
The poet of the world
Do I have a right in life
To own the words untold
Hold stories in my fist?
Grab the pen and revive the strings
Am I what they all adore?
Is this what easily love brings
Who am I, have I a core?
I am who no one else dares be
Still I'm not the first to flee
Far from the horrid strife
Which I can't but call my life.
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