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Like the clock on the wall, we all have a story. Time ticking away which tracks life's journey. Like a scribe it records the good and the bad. It never stops to think what makes us happy or mad? Or what makes us sad ?
I am tired Tired of waking up at 6 AM to go to a white-washed prison where I am taught Not to learn But to pass a test Tired of hearing my dad loudly groan, "Oh really?!" when he sees a homosexual
When the silence builds within me, the walls around me fall. For when I am by myself, I can stand among emptiness tall. But when I'm corned in the open,
The People that Bully have problems of their own The People that Bully laugh and tease at the features that are "imperfect" The People that Bully have no perception of anyone's feelings except their own
oh. the Insanity it comes and it blows like the wind but with minds instead of kites shall you search for an anitdote? no, no silly What would their crunchy Jaws snap at then?!