In some words that can be viewed, let it be known that I contain multitudes I listen to “Stars” by Nina Simmone, as well as Mr. West’s “Flashing Lights,” as I think about the future I hope to own As I reflect, I smirk at the fact that I can read and play guitar classics from hundreds of years back, yet it took me 17 years, 1 month, and 6 days to learn Buffalo wings come from the city of Buffalo, oi vey. It’s hard to comply when my ego’s riding high, yet I struggle to thrive, as I often feel shy It’s baffling how I want some octopus now, but if you fry me some squid, I wouldn’t even bid I constantly run my hand through my hair, yet when I wake up in the morning, I let it run wild in the air I’m enthralled by the roars of guitar, yet find myself entranced by slow streams, with life that teems I try to be a shoulder that she may use to lean, yet I’m terrified to do the same, despite her being keen During the day, my right hand grasps the bow of a violin, but at night it hold a drumstick all the way in I can feel my temper rise on the road, as it does when a customer comes in 2 minutes before closing from their humble abode. My heart yearns for the spotlight, yet deep down I know I would blind myself in that light, oh so bright Indubitably, I am a man of multitudes, more than just unruly or crude Nor professional and in need of a confessional I contain multitudes.