What's the point?
Humans by nature feel inadequate
Are we even sure we can fill the shoes we need to wear?
Mine sink in, with too much room to wiggle in
They don't fit.
Too many expectations,
and I can't amount up to them.

I can feel all the eyes on me
Wondering where I'll go next
What my new zest for life might be
Will I start a riot?
Or go hell bent upon seeing a campaign for body freedom to completion
I think that might be what makes me so appealing
No one can figure me out.
Truthfully, I can't figure myself out.

I'm not the person I was years ago
With each thing that happened,
Little by little she died.
Now I'm twenty three,
No college degree,
And I write more than I speak
Breathe and sleep more than I work
And work more than I eat.

I'm not sure how I've managed to survive this long,
But I can feel it coming quicker than I suspected
Slowly slipping back into the same routine,
and I have to get out.
I have to do something before I sink,
This boat has holes forming,
and the water is beating the boards away
The current is rough,
And I'm not sure where it's pulling me anymore

My life isn't sunshine and rainbows
It's a constant struggle,
I get more than I deserve.
My basic needs go unmet,
Because I don't know how to open my mouth
And I feel inadequate
Like I can't own up to it
These shoes are too big for my feet
I don't feel twenty three.
I feel like a kid, standing in a candy store
And my parents have abandoned me.

I'm not sure why I want to be alone,
and no one ever picks up the phone.
So I'm left with these thoughts,
While I want to slam my head into the wall.

I dreamed of something greater than this.
Really, I think we all did.
But all we do is work to pay for a home we don't live in.
It makes no sense.
We're slaves to corportations,
and debt collectors.

Because we all need money,
But when did money become the source of happiness?
You could be rich, but still be unhappy.