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Á¦¸ñ: The Best of Times
°¡¼ö: Sage Francis

Its been a long and lonely trip but I¡¯m glad I took it cause it was well worth it. Got to read a couple books and do some research before I reached my verdict. Never thought that I was perfect.
Always thought that I had a purpose. And I use to wonder if I¡¯d live to see my first kiss. The most difficult thing that I did was recite my own words at a service. Realizing the person I was addressing probably wasn¡¯t looking down from heaven or cooking up something in hell¡¯s kitchen, trying to listen in or ease drop from some other dimension. It was self serving just like this is.
Conveniently religious on Easter Sunday and on Christmas.
The television went from being a babysitter to a mistress.
Technology made it easy for us to stay in touch while keeping a distance, So we just stayed distant and never touched. Now all we do is text too much.
I don¡¯t remember much from my youth. Maybe my memory is repressed or I just spent too much time wondering if I¡¯ll ever live to have sex.
Fell in love for the first time in 4th grade but I didn¡¯t have the courage to talk to her.
In 8th grade, I wrote the note and slipped it in somebody else¡¯s locker. Considered killing myself cause of that, it was a big deal, it was a blown cover, it was over for me, my goose was cooked, stick a fork in me, the jig is up. Blew my chances. The rest is history. Our future was torn asunder. It became abundantly clear; I was only brought here to suffer.
At least I didn¡¯t include my name. Thankfully I wrote the whole note in code and it had 10 layers of scotch tape. Safety seal, making it impossible to open
Plus, it was set to self destruct. Whoever read it probably died laughing. I wonder if they lived long enough to realize what happened. A year later, I came to understand that wasn¡¯t love that I was feeling for her. I had someone else to obsess over. I was older. I was very mature. I forged my time signature while practicing my parents autograph because I was failing math. Disconnected the phone when I thought the teacher would call my home.
Checked the mailbox twice a day at the end of a long dirt road. Steamed open a couple envelopes like I was in private detective mode.
If you snoop around long enough for something in particular, you¡¯re guaranteed to find it. For better or worse that¡¯s how I learned it¡¯s best to just keep some things private


3X It was the best of times it was the end of times

The best of times. The end of times.
I was always on deck. I was next in line. An only child with a pen and pad, writing a list of things I could never have. Walls in my house were paper thin. The squabbles seemed to get deafening. My memory served me correctly, I made it a point to void and forget some things. Probably to keep from being embarrassed. Never meant to upset or give grief to my parents. Kept my secrets. Hid my talents. In my head, never under the mattress. Therapy couldn¡¯t break me. Never learned a word that would ensure safety. So, I spoke softly and I tiptoed often. The door to my room was like a big old coffin. The way that it creaked when I closed it shut. Anxieties peaked when it opened up. As if everything that I was thinking would be exposed, I still sleep fully clothed.

It was the best of times.
It was beautiful
It was brutal
It was cruel
It was business as usual
Heaven
It was hell
Used to wonder if I¡¯d live to see 12.
When I did, I figured that I was immortal. Loved to dance but couldn¡¯t make it to the formal. Couldn¡¯t bear watching my imaginary girlfriend bust a move with any other dudes. Tone Loc was talking about a wild thing but I was still caught up with some child things. Scared of a god who couldn¡¯t spare the rod. It was clearly a brimstone and fire thing. Pyromaniac, kleptomaniac, couldn¡¯t explain my desire to steal that fire. Now I add it to my rider like please don¡¯t, please don¡¯t throw me in that patch of briar.

It was the best of times it was the end of times.

The school councilor was clueless cause I never skipped classes. Perfect attendance, imperfect accent

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