It's the little things that plague us,
The little things that form us.
We drown in our heads and hearts,
And fill our stomachs full of starch.
We feel the pain, in belief we'll gain,
A strength unknown, a strength our own.
We cry floods of water as we choke it down.
Smile more 'cause wrinkles spur from frowns.
The lies we tell are true in ways,
We won't confess 'cause we're ashamed.
We tear apart each others' hearts,
Like rusted, cheap, unwanted car parts.
We mourn the end, yet complain at the start.
It's the little things we should remember.
They are how you make your mark.