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THINK

I’m a snail
I’m lazy but detailed and hidden behind a shell
I’m quiet, not stupid, but feel always like hell.
 
And if ever a day when I think up to par
I’m taken down slowly by words from afar
No they don’t “hurt me”
They simply make me think
 
Bout life
Bout family
But mostly bout peace
 
And why I don’t have any
Why I can’t have any
 
Why every time I think about life and how short it comes about
I think about worry
 
And then about doubt
For if one day I find
That all this don’t matter
I’d truly be better
Than all of the spatter.

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