I’m always the paddle, and never the boat.
I push along stories, in order to float.
When sea’s grow rough sometimes I fall under,
and what does this mean, I sometimes wonder?
I tend to move on and be someone else’s oar,
It’s the same old scene that I’ve gone through before.
My story repeats itself wave after crash, and
before you know it, you’re free at last.
In the beginning my color’s were vibrant, not faded
and I was happy and felt wildly elated.
But now that portion is over and I am done,
trying to push along people just for fun.
My label has rubbed off from much wear and tear,
my brand has been lifted, so I no longer care.
I will say what I want, and do what I do
because I am now pushing me and no longer pushing you.
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