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What good is anything? Being alive begin to feel like an awful strain.
You ast yourself one question, it lead to fifteen. I start to wonder why us need love. Why us suffer. Why us black. Why us men and women. Where do children really come from. It didn’t take long to realize I didn’t hardly know nothing.
I be so calm. If she come, I be happy. If she don’t, I be content. And then I figure this the lesson I was suppose to learn.
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