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I am not an airhead.
My thoughts are sponges made of lead.
They swell inside my mind, behind my zoned-out eyes,
And shield me from your cutting lies.
Although I should apologize,
As your mind is clearly filled with flies.
Since you cannot hold a thought longer than your breath,
You speak with a distinct lack of depth.
You see, I am not brain dead.
My words are thought before they're said.