Why do I always feel, forgotten?
Why do I always feel like, like I’m at the bottom?
I don’t know the answers,
But I know that I consistently want what I cannot have,
Yet I still succeed,
I complain to the top,
Yet my soul still bleeds,
Because I want more of what I don’t need,
I seek advice that I don’t heed,
I scramble to define my existence by what others see,
But none of my pleasures, just never,
I need me, is it my consciousness, or my possessions?
Its obvious, but if it’s so obvious, why to vanity do I concede?
I fear these notions, they cause me to reminisce,
And I feel pain, and I bleed,
Why can’t I just be vain?
Why can’t I just look at you and be the same?
Why do I have to second guess my thoughts
and erase my name?
Why do I think so deep,
When wages is what I was born to achieve?
This world doesn’t need thoughts,
It doesn’t need pain,
And it doesn’t need, me,
Save for my hands, and my feet,
The real me, but a pair of eyes, suffocating for more to be.