You would think it would make more sense to enjoy what is around you.
I do. I promise you. I very much do.
But why is it that this mind works so fast?
Not just me.
But yours?
Can you not see?
Hear?
Touch and feel every single ray of light?
It's loud with a decadent cry.
The cry that will very soon subside.

Why is it though that I find it so hard to accept?
How happy I am. I assure you.
Scout's honor and no regrets.
But you must admit.
There is much for one to fret.

How do you do it?
How do you smile all day long?
I smile. They love it.
But that smile I wear is just a sarong.
It's there I promise.
But so is the tampered song.

I sing a lot. You wouldn't know.
But some of these things I write.
Well, they're songs.
And I want to say pretty good ones.
To me at least.
That's all that matters. (Not to say you aren't amazing.)
You are and that is a verity.

But sometimes there is much too much in a "we."