the notes all passed before my eyes, i was longing for a sense of belonging
the doors slammed shut without reason this agony, this dying, discomfort
with who i was and who i wished to be.
classrooms filled with silver spoons and excuses for hating the weak.
they said that angels held up my arms, and that's how i learned to speak
i hated, no, hate myself for who i was and for who i have come to be
and no one could ever hate me more, than i hate me
kids can be so cruel, kids can hurt themselves to
it's primitive behaviour and one that i just can't unlearn
this sorrow, that i feel now, hasn't passed since given, during those
lunch hours and bus seats alone...
i'll ignore those halo's