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.

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