A man sitting in a room
left alone is dying to be felt
A boy believes he is king only in his castle.
I've been hit with the reality that it's hard for me to breathe without feeling.
Unconsciously I continue to want to be felt and heard, but cords in my vocals
Can't reach out to those that I want to touch.
It's a battle between me and the mic.
Continuously it finds a way to keep fucking choking me.
These x's and o's aren't play formations for me to get the touchdown
It's just something I desperately need since the closets thing to touch
Is how I wash off the dirt from work.
I am slave to my own reality.
A pit full of needs that are masked by the wants
which will never be touched by my desires.
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