Harry's Hatred
The day is here
Yet I see no light
I have no fear
That I have lost my sight
It doesn’t matter any more
Nothing does, and nothing ever will
My body feels sore
As I lean on the window-sill
The tears don’t come
Although I want them to
I want to run away
From myself, what should I do?
Each day is new
And yesterday is forgotten
My life is so blue
With death I am besotted.
He was my father, and mother besides
My catch at the straw
He has all but survived
While running away from the law.
Let me tell you one thing:
It is not easy being the Boy-Who-Lived.
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