They say shoot for the stars,
But what if I’m indoors?
I’ll just end up hitting the celling.
They say be yourself,
Then they want you to be happy.
What if you’re sad?
People want things they can’t see.
They’d trade in their sight
For a modest lie.
I doesn’t hurt me all that much anymore,
I’ve chewed glass before.
It always tastes the same, like blood.
Being alive is like writing poetry,
You can’t tear someone apart just because you don’t like them.
True poetry comes from honesty.
We need more of it, the truth.
No more masks or plays,
Just us, naked and bare.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
They say shoot for the stars,
But what if I’m indoors?
I’ll just end up hitting the celling.
They say be yourself,
Then they want you to be happy.
What if you’re sad?
People want things they can’t see.
They’d trade in their sight
For a modest lie.
I doesn’t hurt me all that much anymore,
I’ve chewed glass before.
It always tastes the same, like blood.
Being alive is like writing poetry,
You can’t tear someone apart just because you don’t like them.
True poetry comes from honesty.
We need more of it, the truth.
No more masks or plays,
Just us, naked and bare.
