Faults

Don't know don't care how you think. Yelling to get your point across won't give me that touch of mink. Caring critics tell me they're scared for me. They should be. Nowhere to go, no one to see. They don't see anyting in me. Someone to yell for small mistakes. They don't know what a toll it takes. When I move out, I'll stay out. Call it what you want, but yelling is a reason for me to pout. Fists would hurt less. They'd make it a simpler mess. I shouldn't tense when they're near me. But I do, so what do you see?! Why are they so sad to know me?!