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StuporWhite speckled ceiling stares downLaying on the soft carpeted groundHalf empty gin bottle slipping from handNo use in thinking about self reprimandWindow is dark lacking stars and moonListening to cricket chirp and owls croonSilent tears make their way down from the eyesHeart full of pain, masked in drunken disguiseWhite walls close in tightlyThis is a habit of doing this nightlyFingers brush the half empty bottleTake a swig from the death hottle
What am I for?Somtimes I wonderWhat I am to do on this EarthI sit and ponderAbout the reason of my birthAm I destined for greatnessOr am I to be aloneWill I be your highnessOr am I just a lowly cloneDo people look upAnd wish to be like meDo they think I am corruptIs that all they seeWill I go somewhereAnd aspire to greatnessOr am I stuck to roam with out a careForever living in lonelinessWill I ever see the sunOr forever see the cloudsWill I drop the gunAnd get up from the ground