I guess at this point we just bury it all again,
No difference between the now and the then,
No sense of love, no joy, no longer a trend,
When your darkest thoughts are your only friends.
Start breaking ground, grab your spade and dig,
The game is fixed to favor the rich, it’s rigged,
From the ghost of a mother to the father who was a pig,
Only one place to bury the tears, pain, and the stigma.
Bury me again, It hurts but it all does anyway,
I feel the light but no one lets me play,
Tired of standing on weak legs broken feet,
At least six feet down, I can feel somewhat complete.
Funeral day begins, but as usual no one attends.
Tell me they care till the pretending ends,
No way when this poor to make self-amends,
So I raise hell, the only way I know how to defend.
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