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were i to hold my heart here in my hands,
and cry and scream for you to look,
you'd turn your head toward sweeter lands,
or stick your nose in a page less book.

you want to know, but you really don't care;
you laugh, but you're not amused;
you cry 'CORRUPTION,' but yet you're still there:
you'd leave but you like the abuse.

the little girl's cry echoes on in the silence,
while mine hides away with my mind.
you criticize her for her necessary violence;
you criticize me for my hate of your kind.

why should i tolerate you and your apathy?
oh, pardon the rudeness of staring.
i know there is nothing worth taking or giving,
i know i'm an idiot for caring.