p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;" align="center"Good God, I was morbid little poophead four years ago! Why in the world...oh yeah. High school. Prepare to be drained of all individuality and spirit. (If you got that reference, know that I love you dearly.) Anyway, have fun reading my angst ridden poem. /p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;" align="center" /p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;" align="center"Happy reading!/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;" align="center" /p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;" align="center" /p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"Hell on Earth, for Harry, can be found/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"At Number Four Privet Drive, the Dursley Home/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"Repeatedly abused and neglected/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"Repeatedly dying at his uncle's hands/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"Yet still existing, day after day after day/p