I fly over Nova Scotia, I swim the ocean blue
I land in New Orleans and eat Poe Boy or two
I am not the person people expect me to be
I'm not warm, I'm not over and I am not in between
I'm living in my car now, I sold all my stuff
Not because I needed money, because I had too much
I'm writing this in a notebook, that no one will ever read
So why am I still pretending I'm who they'd think I'd be?
I am in between the margins, these words are just me clothes
That I wear to cover up, what I want no one to know
Jungle-green, magenta, and underwater-blue
I love every single color, Teardrops + Balloons
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