A WAY I MUST BE
Death finds the blind
A way I refuse to be
There is a road I must find
A way I must be
Ten thousand questions
Searching for the answers
The sun is arising
People are complaining
Nothing is changing
But there's a whole lot of promises
By: Roger Harkness
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I wrote this poem when I was a teenager and I imagine this is how a teenager feels, looking to their future.