For The Walkers In The Rain
#nightdwellers Families are sleeping But we're waking to the pain There must be some pity for the walkers in the rain. Grimy nightroads are our halls Telltale sun's our bane.
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#nightdwellers Families are sleeping But we're waking to the pain There must be some pity for the walkers in the rain. Grimy nightroads are our halls Telltale sun's our bane.
What I'd give to have someone who gives a shit. One thing that frustrates me, more than ever. Is the bitterness and hate that consumes around me, always forever.
Lets all just blow our brains out beside the river. the whom has taken over. life is empty and your a bitch. if we get it right, one bullet will take both of us. or I could be a prostitute.
I sat there watching. The guests were mingling, scuffing cake and cookies in their face. They talked about the weather and the news and how the cake was so lovely.
I wish to belong For my stories to be told A place were I long In this earthly world I don't quite fit in No one really listens I feel like a sin in this big world Why do you talk like so You...
Oh such a crime I do find That people hate me They hate me for stroking a cat What a load of crap. They hate me because of my parents But what have they done.
We're all different,. So they say,. But at the end,. Of every day,. My ice soul searches,. Far and wide,. But none can shine,. Out from the tide,. They all are dull,. And blurred by green,.
I will remain, to those petty fools from school, the moustache bearing silent girl. That one over there, sitting by herself because she looks like a boy and has the social skills of a dead toad.
My screams go unheard. So louder and louder I cry. People to busy to look around. People to busy to ask why. They can't see i'm invisible to them. They care not for what I do.
My world is composed of dreams and an underground wonderland.. There we have teenage girls wasting away, I've surfaced through but stayed.
Alway on the outside. Looking in. Never feeling comfortable. Not even in my own shell. Nobody listens. And nobody cares. Life passing by. Like a tumbleweed in a ghost town. No friends to speak of.
They hate you for the clothes you wear. They hate you for the music you listen too. They hate you for the way you speak. They hate you because your different to them.
He was watching them again. They were both looking up at him, squinting against the sun which was behind the block of flats, transforming it into a looming silhouette.