Why is it the petty things
That seem to bother me so?
That make my heart beat uneasily
And make my bad thoughts grow?

Is it because I think
That I’m simply not that much?
That I’m just me, nothing more,
And used for just a crutch?

Is it because I think
Too deeply about these things?
Make mountains out of molehills
And say things I know that sting?

Or is it because of someone
Who made me lose my trust?
Made me think they’re all alike
And being hurt is a must?

Is it because this someone
Made me paranoid and scared
That history will repeat itself
And make the world seem unfair?

But why must one suffer
For that someone’s mistakes?
I shouldn’t hold it against others.
It’s not their fault someone was fake.

I don’t know why these petty things
Make my hope fall.
I just know that this one
Isn’t like that someone at all.