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lyrics

Sometimes I get lost in this
mirror maze of selves.
Got all these layers laid out like
clockwork,
for every conversations’ turn.
Used to say “I’ll know who I am
once I stop being a kid.”
But I’m still just the cracked innocence
clutching suits and shoes
that are too big.

And all this world seems
built of boxes, mapped out in
snapshot frames.
And often people start to
look the same.
But is it ‘cuz of the faces we wear?
Or the anxious desires we carry?

Spent a lot of years looking
for my name,
which everyone else seems to know.
And I insecurity makes me into a fool,
but it’s my only consistent role.
Yet, fuck all these clamoring narratives.
It’s time I held the only pen.
(I’m done with all this pretend
even if it seems the only means to an end.)

And maybe I’ve been found
weighed and wanting.
But enough of self-inflicted haunting.
I claim my name,
however much it changes.
Maybe being human means
being built of
more than one narrative.

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about

Mik Seattle, Washington

Storyteller, book junkie, and all around weird kid.

Part of Trash Heap
trashheapmusic.bandcamp.com

When not jamming sad songs with Trash Heap or writing silly angsty mini-comics, can be found getting lost in Wikipedia tangents, aspiring to be a space pirate, and eating way too many jelly candies.
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