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Talented
I'm tired of being left
But I'm so fantastically
Good at it
Like a lifelong cobbler
Who never really
Wanted to be.
You smile, say it's fine
Because it's the thousandth time and you've had worse
One more little cut
Probably won't even leave a scar
But the blood is still lost
You drive down a direction
Because you're good and it
Gets you by
Think 'oh only the lucky few
Get to love what they do'
Remember, though
All Hitler wanted
Was to paint.
