My family doesnt beleive in me. They think writting, is a waste of time, But i love this place of rhyme. Its an escape in pen lines. They think that, I have no reason to cry. My family does not, help my mind. All i hear is its your fault, All I can do is sigh. I cant say much, because then we all argue and fight. So I escape to my, belief of waste, my rhyme of pen lines.