None of the Above
I hate this place, the residents, each lying face and each resentment.
They hate me, they do not disguise their contemptously rehearsed lies.
Their words are trussed with pretty flowers, making me lust for hours and hours
for truth, cold-hard. And a little love. But my life is marred and I recieve none of the above.
**i forced this out for an emo poetry contest a loooong time ago. the rhyme scheme is ABAB.**
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