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i only spat out real things
one can always say,
not spit out dirty spit.

i only spat out real things,
not aim and shoot
for the beating thing
in your chest,

but you threw knives
with your tongue
right when i couldn't see you.

and i have no chances left now.

the man who controls
the small heritage and little blood
in me
said i must shut my damn truth
for i am too young.

and when it is now the day
that this comes out,
i guess it would be the last time
that i speak out.

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