Exhaled from poisoned semen,
A re-incarnation perhaps,
Comes the story of me,
Coming from a family of shouting
And screaming,
These raging paragraphs,
Will not let me be.
How can you ease pain,
When you're alwas pointed at,
How lame;
I grew up with nothing,
Will die with nothing,
And a rough childhood,
Is all I blame.
I came to a conclusion,
That this intrusion,
Of worthless struggle,
Is going to dig my grave,
Without a need,
For a shovel.
Or perhaps,
With the misery I seem to attract,
I'm always trying to dwell,
On the simple ideal;
That perhaps,
I was destined to fail.
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