I didn't write the poem There weren't any words I said it all this year With tumultuous birds They flapped and they flew They shrunk and they grew And one day we all broke through... Through the patterns that stick And the habits so thick And the things that we thought that we knew And the future you'd planned On a lonely kickstand Made of truths that really aren't true But really there's more If you stop closing doors And warm up a heart that is blue And if you see it you'll fly Further than high Like all of the birds that you drew
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