The black rose that grew in the jungle

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The struggle of being the best kept secret.
I wonder if people even notice it
The battle that's raging inside of your mind
alone in this Godforsaken place with nothing but a dream to find
it's scary with nothing but regrets left behind
and nothing but pain sitting right in front of you
no wonder it's hard to find anything to look up to
when everything in life seems to be heading down
idiots try to make you seem like a clown
because you're "never down"
It's like they love to see you with a frown
And pretend to care when there are others around
You sit back and wonder how this would sound
"Why not uplift one another instead of bringing each other down"
Then you see the masses telling you to sit down and not make a sound
Might as well label you bozo the clown
It's like why bother
People will stare at you and wonder where's your father
"He's too busy making the white mans dollar
Too busy teaching you how to inherit that blue collar
That's why sometimes it's like why bother
Why keep trying when my mind starts to falter
Maybe I really am a clown and I shouldn't make a sound
I find comfort when no ones around
But When I'm in a crowd my mind seems to alter
Bozo tends to make his appearance
It's like everyone loves me when I'm like this
Me Pretending to be dumb brings them bliss
But calm and collective seems to erupt fear
when I'm like this I can see everything so clear
My dear
I hope you understand this very clear
I've learn to not give people the reaction they want out of me
So please don't lose yourself in spite of me

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