None of the Above
I hate this place,
the residents,
each lying face
and each resentment.
They hate me,
they do not disguise
their contemptously
rehearsed lies.
Their words are trussed
with pretty flowers,
making me lust
for hours and hours
for truth, cold-hard.
And a little love.
But my life is marred
and I recieve none of the above.
**i forced this out for an emo poetry contest a loooong time ago. the rhyme scheme is ABAB.**
