First day
The painted rooms, I hate the way
Pinching bright light
Less to see
Empty buildings in sight
Waiting for the teacher
And void elevator rooms
Screech of the crusher and its booms
Unknown echoing sounds
Broken or being made homes are the ones that surrounds
I hate this way
Daily to travel long
I hate the place where I stay
To look down the top floor
Still no reason to jump
Not liking the way it is
I regret the way blood pumps
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