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The Hatred of Parents
The Hatred of Parents
He always yells
She always yells
He says he is proud
She thinks of the crowd
She never says she is proud of me
It is just like I am some tree
Trying to get through a rough storm called life
I wish that that storm would turn into the wonderful wind on a summer day,
But I knew that will never happen because well,
I am me and you?
You are the lucky one
You are you.
