These people, whom I know as much as I know me,
As I fill my days with their shiny lives and parades,
But they're not mine,...
Some picture-perfect lies...
There lies mine,...
trampled,
abandoned,
begging to be remembered,
begging to be cared ...
I don't know me,
I don't know my story...
And as I bask in their glory,
The one grasping for help is me,
As I follow them away...
As I walk away from me,
Only with what makes them h a p p y ...
Because it was easy,...
Too easy....
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
These people, whom I know as much as I know me,
As I fill my days with their shiny lives and parades,
But they're not mine,...
Some picture-perfect lies...
There lies mine,...
trampled,
abandoned,
begging to be remembered,
begging to be cared ...
I don't know me,
I don't know my story...
And as I bask in their glory,
The one grasping for help is me,
As I follow them away...
As I walk away from me,
Only with what makes them h a p p y ...
Because it was easy,...
Too easy....
Loosely from the bystander effect. As my life is the victim, reaching out for my care as I was too busy watching other peoples'. People I barely know of, but I don't feel like I know me either.
