Not many people can think of that.
Sometimes I wish I was a lumber jack.
It seems as though they are predicted to be tough, like nothing can come in between them & their axe.
They are so mentally strong & built like a brick wall, yet I am shoved aside like a piece of trash & not understood the full purpose of me.
I wish I was a lumber jack.
They wear their hats with pride and courage, knowing their job can be dangerous.
They could die, yet they face death with a grin.
I have pride of what I am, but who am I?
I know my ancestry & where I come from but what makes me.. the person who I am?
Is it the hobbies that I do or is it the music I listen to?
Is it the people I hang out with or is it the hat that I wear?
I wish I were a lumberjack
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