the miserable life of a miserable teenager -
rain cloud
Everyone sees my cloud, as it floats above my head. How could I hide it now?My cold dead eyes,
My pale lifeless face,
My nihilistic personality.
Was it ever sunny out?
Or did we miss the thunder, before the lightning?
They say, “A criminal isn’t born, they’re made.”
Not necessarily a criminal, though I sometimes have the mind of one.
So maybe, it’s true. I had a beaming sun.
And you were the cloud.
Yes, I made it rain,
But why’d you give me a cloud?
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