A poem to the world: By Corinne
Why, world, why must you be
So insulant, so vast, so super artifical-ly
You make me want to know
Exactly why I want to be here
But all I do is work and strive
To be a lowly, underpaid cashier (with no benefits)
Teenagers get high and drunk
And get married and have babies
But my mom's still quite content
Lecturing on about
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