text: They Steal Our Lives
  Ignorance, everyday, seems more prominent,
  While impending doom lurks more definite.
  But suppose, just once, they took a walk,
  Instead of marking life with chalk,
  They could stand back and reminisce
  Realizing that I walk away not missed.
  Parents, family, 'know what is best'
  Only to a certain extent,
  For they only know one side of you
  The other half has no cue.
  Yet, hypocrites they will remain,
  For they do not accept a demain.
  It sickens me, and so I waste.
  My creativity chokes on taste
  Of this putrid dish of greed.
  They want to live a life not seed
  In decrepit and shame and 'end'
  So they take mine and send
  One lost in worth in place of it.
  My life looks back and pleas for help,
  But what can I do? I'm but a welp,
  Raised from the ashes of 'Once ago
  They had their life stolen as well.'
  A/N: Born from my latest rant on deviant art, I'm unbelievably furious at my parents. I won't go into length and detail here, but as a clue the word life is not the definition opposite of death. A Demain in french means see you tomorrow. I was too lazy to add the accentaegou.
explanation: The provided text is a poem that expresses frustration and anger towards the author's parents and family. It does not contain any math question or answer.
distilabel_metadata.content: Evaluate the user given text extract and determine if it contains a math question and optionally and answer to this question.
  
  Output rules:
  
  1. Briefly describe the document and mention if it contains a question or a question and answer.
  2. Finalize the output with: Label: no-question,question,question-and-answer,multiple-question,multiple-question-and-answer
distilabel_metadata.role: system
distilabel_metadata.content: They Steal Our Lives
  Ignorance, everyday, seems more prominent,
  While impending doom lurks more definite.
  But suppose, just once, they took a walk,
  Instead of marking life with chalk,
  They could stand back and reminisce
  Realizing that I walk away not missed.
  Parents, family, 'know what is best'
  Only to a certain extent,
  For they only know one side of you
  The other half has no cue.
  Yet, hypocrites they will remain,
  For they do not accept a demain.
  It sickens me, and so I waste.
  My creativity chokes on taste
  Of this putrid dish of greed.
  They want to live a life not seed
  In decrepit and shame and 'end'
  So they take mine and send
  One lost in worth in place of it.
  My life looks back and pleas for help,
  But what can I do? I'm but a welp,
  Raised from the ashes of 'Once ago
  They had their life stolen as well.'
  A/N: Born from my latest rant on deviant art, I'm unbelievably furious at my parents. I won't go into length and detail here, but as a clue the word life is not the definition opposite of death. A Demain in french means see you tomorrow. I was too lazy to add the accentaegou.
distilabel_metadata.role: user
distilabel_metadata.raw_output_q_a_detector_0: The provided text is a poem that expresses frustration and anger towards the author's parents and family. It does not contain any math question or answer.
  
  Label: no-question