Misplaced hatred, outdated vendettas
They won’t leave, they’re his leech
Unseen by others but out of his own reach
Hooded sweaters do little; he begged to replace it
But he’d rather be dead than change faces on a daily basis
The anger is baseless, and bottomless
His foundation is brittle bitterness
For hours he’d sit
Stuck in middle, muddy and riddled with regret
He’s waited too long to forgive and forget
Patiently waiting got him nowhere
His fate was in the hands of another
So he snatched it back,
Laughed as he wracked his brain,
Everything else had been in vain
Now breaking rules doesn’t warrant an explanation
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