A man who is not shown the attention
he feels he deserves, shall become less a man
and more a machine built of disregaurds
and fueled by anger and hatred.
This contraption pushes it's way
into the wheat fields of the towns
and cuts down the feelings of others
just like the wheat stalks in the fields.
No one see's that this contraption
is so full of sadness and hatred
for no one notices him stalking
the shadows of the corner of the room.
He wallows in his field and wishes
only to be alone. He wishes to be
seperated in body for he feels all too
much seperated in the hearts of others.
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