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We grin when we hear our spirit manufactured for pleasures sake
We even find ourselves moving shamelessly according to these false vibrations seeking something familiar, something…..true
Yet you still look upon us an uncouth while we shimmer, pop, lock, and dance to shake away the pain
we sing to empty our  lungs so that the coughs born of smoldering legacies feel somehow justified
still
      while
               wearing
                                 THE MASK
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In honor of  Mother Maya Angelou and Paul Lawrence Dunbar
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