Each morning, I wait
Behind the two iron gates,
Like a caged-up bird
When I step outside
The sun rays remind me that
My skin’s a template
Locking up, I think
How fences seem offensive,
Almost violent
Each morning, I wait
Behind the two iron gates,
Like a caged-up bird
When I step outside
The sun rays remind me that
My skin’s a template
Locking up, I think
How fences seem offensive,
Almost violent
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