My words are green, this I know. I am no Dickinson, Sexton, or a Poe. These lines are juvenile, that at best. The insight I need, resides soley in my chest Unlike any others, None has seaped into my pen. All the others in my class Can sense my inferiority, alas. They glare and I am judged They see a want-to-be not wanting to be budged. All wrapped up in their hidden meanings By their rightous beginnings.Birth sign: Gemini
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