Sorry it's about me,
Though I guess it's a sentiment common,
To the majority,
Thrown into life, parents if you're lucky,
Thrown into it themselves,
Without the ben'fit of special knowledge,
Just the same unchanging self-help packed shelves,
Telling you to listen to your insides,
But that's not easy, too,
For, for everything you would rather do,
There's 'nother force on you,
From the outside,
Where you're trying to live,
It's a balance, staying true to your heart,
When everything you do's cumulative.
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