A small poem I wrote about life in my spare time. |
Life It can almost never be defined But trust me it barely has a purpose What is it really but a dream for the dead And one big beauty contest With the way your always looking down to your scraped up shoes Do you really want to know what your missing Truly its nothing much but critisizm and judgement Fighting for the wrong reasons and making others feel so small Under someone elses power because you know theyve got it We're just the kids who never made it at all And you better keep your toungue to yourself Because you are nothing compared to everyone else around you Do you truly think you can make it No,they have more things than you could ever dream So the bother to be perfect and the bother to be beautiful Never really does pay off in the long run But you, and us, the ones without a longing As our lives, they keep on spinning And our lies, they keep on swimming Do we realise that we are beautiful without the rage Do we realise that those who are someone that theyve heard of somewhere And could never really ammount to Are the ones who're oh so shallow, oh so cruel Because they think theyre all that and get their kicks By making others feel smaller than them So our life is so very short And while we can we should live it through Because if we spend it acting like another person How can you call it your own life Maybe we, the tired, the worn, the used, the torn, the shadowed, the shunned,the abused Maybe we can find the true meaning of life Life |