This place is my cell
My jailer, the teacher
My need to leave is getting stronger
I would rather be dead then be here
This depression gets worse every year
Every urge to kill gets stronger here
Suicidal thoughts more frequent
Homicidal Thoughts get worse
Now my sleep is even less
Headaches are getting worse with this light
I want the darkness of my room
I want my books, my candles
This place is full of butholes
I want most of them dead
They know nothing yet all they do is talk crap
They mess with you if you are different
One day they will see what they truly are
But guilt will not come to them
I pity them more than anything
I see them dieing alone and depressed
My favorite saying holds so true here
Better to hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not
Either way, you cannot be loved by all
Either way, you will always be hated by someone
This place My prison
My jailer, my teacher
I hate this place
We call it school.
