War Within Myself

"This ain't no joke, Lemme clear my throat".
I could write you a symphony, yet I still remain deaf to the unchained melody. So, if anybody asks you, "what's the matter with me?"
Tell em "Silence your potential verbal violence, she's got her own homegrown poison infecting and testing her".
Measuring her strength, validating her price. Seeking to be luxury, yet tied up in that clearance life.
Good whispered to her soul "seek higher" with evil in her head mumbling "why bother to aspire??" She's never 100% sure of what's right or what's wrong, never testing the limits, yet always seeking to just belong.
No need for convoluted schemes or intricate weaponry. In her mind stuck on repeat bellows: Words will be the death of me.

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