#77- fek this is gold Class rooms filled with hearts of hate, I care the least for any gate, Nor first nor second, add 48? I cant express my dreadful fate. Am I worth no more than eight, eight simple numbers, am I bait? Bait on the fishing rod of eyes, Eyes of sixty thousand lies. We are not “The future leaders!”, All we are, are future breeders, To children who will do same, Night and day will live in shame, Shame that they had had no choice, of what would have been rejoice. To be a leader, queen or king, dont we need to break the swing, since it goes but back and forth, we are not made for south or north. Endless nights of gloomy eyes, wake the next, head filled with lies, taught what we should write in ink, but told not what we really think. This system drowns in countless flaws, but flaws are not what make it cause, cause all the pain and all the stress, and all the times that we digress. I see the point, I see it clear, There is no glory there for me, unless I get my HSC, without it I will not be free, I will be stuck in what is known, to be the ditch of worthless bone. But in the end what does it mean? Am I but digits or a bean, When will I rise above the skies, above the lying and the lies, when will I need no more disguise, or will I end up in reprise? - Not the board of studies (NT.BOS)
Posted on: Sat, 12 Jul 2014 07:51:07 +0000
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