(no subject)
why do i fight sleep
when i love it so.
why do i try so hard
to find at the end of day it's still me
why do i search and seek and hunt
when what i'm looking for is probably right in front of me
why is it i see so many beautiful people
but most the time instead of being content i am
jealous and drowning and bitter
why do i go out of my way so much
and know it won't even be noticed
why do i cry
when really i am selfish. and have so much.
why do you like me? what am i to you?
because you all know what you are to me, i've told you
but i feel like there's a joke going on around me
and i missed the first line.
i feel like a picutre is being painted, a story is being told
but i am the wrong shade, i am the four lettered word little kids get in trouble saying
i feel like mould, but not in the way it's normally said
just sort of carrying on with some green sticky shit on my back
and in my head.
i'm out of my depth