Why are there so many things in this world to worry about?
Why do I wait and wander in my worries when I could be doing something fun
like making babies or going on journeys?
Why is the world so mean?
Why is the world such a bully?
Why does it push me around and knock me to the ground and how does it know I
won't make a sound
or tell my mom or a teacher?
Because it knows I'm a bad public speaker.
And when I'm on stage, become weaker.
And when the curtain opens, I'll freeze.
And when I look into the crowd and see him I'll fall to my knees
Because the scratches on my life were made with his keys.
He was the sunshine that gave me energy
The same sun that gave me the cancer that killed me.
Why does the world work that way?
Why does the world treat us like we're the runt and it's the first born?
Like we're the little sister who gets hand-me-downs and
Clothes that have already been worn?
Why does the world give you that feeling when you hear a car horn
Of some asshole who was driving too fast
Trying to escape his past
But before he knew it he crashed
Head first into the present
Nothing a speedometer could prevent
Because the world was so intent
On it's constant torment.
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