complain
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I'm tired of all these morons acting like a philosophic class
These people, more like sheeple standing lonely in the aftermath
Thinking if only they can get the holy that is up for grabs
Rude remarks and unfair words pushed out her evil, snarky smile.
She mocked us with hateful words with the most caring tone.
Never would she raise her voice or give a scowl,
Yet she tortured us with her smile.
I need to get it off my chest
To whine and scream and cry
But then I here about Russia, or my friend's family life
And my problems are little
So I bottle it up
It hides in the recesses of my mind
The tiny squeak of the lid
Popping off like a sword drawing from the sheath.
The mentor turned away from the nonchalant pupils.
Thinking, just how long until the bell rings.
Turns out
