Honestly. I'm tired of hearing it. Who are you? What are you going to do in life? How will you make your mark? What will you amount to? That's not a real career. Have you thought about something else as a more practical career? You won't succeed.
How can I think freely if all my thoughts are full of holes? Everyone nitpicking them until they no longer exist, what's the point of even trying? How can I succeed if everyone pushes me back into my bubble? What am I supposed to do if I can't even leave? No one expects me to leave, either.
How am I supposed to get anywhere if I'm surrounded by high expectations? What am I supposed to accomplish? I can't get anywhere today. The bar's too high. All I can do is complain. Is this really all I can do? It's so... awful. It's a bother. It's a nuisance. I hate it. What am I meant to be?
Reaching my hands so hard that my fingers bent Counting days till happiness And my finger lines are erased I finally grasp a fading light It’s a memory of olden times Swinging in the blue rusted swing In school’s playground, waiting For my parents to pick me up So I’ll show them my bruises And they’ll cheer me up with the boxes of juices
But it’s not enough so I reach out again I grasp a fading light It’s a memory of happy times Dancing in the monsoon rain With my brothers in the flooding streets With overflowing drains And coming home to slip under the warm blanket And pray for the rain to continue But the school was never skipped, the sky always turned blue
However it’s not enough so I must reach out again to grasp a fading light It’s a memory of good ol’ times Standing beneath the shady tree, cursing out names Me with my rather competitive friends Throwing jabs and insults but taking it in all fun and games And the cruel school times diluted by the spirit Of carelessness, nonchalance and adolescence When the handholds of hours were actually for a minute
But why isn’t in enough, I can’t reach out anymore My feet are twisted, my arms are broken, I can’t do this no more But I run, one step turned into a hundred Breezing through all these fading lights To find the one, the dearest to mine
Is it my mother kissing my forehead? Is it the whisper that made a poet? Or the family trips with my brothers and cousins? Or the foolishness with friends without repercussions? No they’re not them, not the movies nor my video games I run, I run, I run but it’s all the same I can’t find the one Not the stories I created in my wandering head Not the pleasures of life, nothing lies ahead
It’s not enough, I can’t reach out anymore No amount of those fading lights Can return back the fading lights in my eyes As I lay bleeding in the middle of a road I can’t reach out anymore I can’t reach out anymore I can’t anymore
I could hear the silent tapping from the snow against the window The only light to be seen within miles being the round moon It was a cold, grim, and dark night The sadness in the air was overwhelming The black page sitting on the dark wooden table No thoughts no feelings to arise