Illumination shines brightest on a darkest face.
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Your head hung down your standing in the corner in disgrace.
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To return to mayhem that comes second nature eminent punishment to arise will explain ya.
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To the point that you can't even understand yourself.
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The misguiding of this youth mask,
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the cry for help that no amount of self-authority could contain,
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allowing another day of swimming in this dry pain.
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We all sit back and point fingers for the sake of answers,
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looking to the scapegoats ignoring all the cancers,
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that will manifest inside the innocence of youth,
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but no glimmer for hope no display of proof.
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I'm a little teapot short and stout
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Here is my handle here is my spout
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When I get angry then you'll hear me shout
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Tip me over and the tempest comes out (2x)
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A victim of neglect as the years kept on passing.
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It's built up inside but still shunned from asking.
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What is the reason for this manifestation to seek aside,
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left alone, alleviation,
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but why should there be loneliness in understanding.
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Is this cry for pity to a parent too demanding.
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Whom shall be left to hurt alone.
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The weight of the world pent up inside of me!!!
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Tempest
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Every Day Life (EDL) |