Laying here alone in my bed,
writing angsty teen poetry in my head
Because my words are generally misunderstood
and i want to spread,
a positive message
but i think i'm missing something
Now I open my individuality to the world
by writing interchangable verses
left open to interpretation
trying to impress her with my vague themes,
quick wit, and fasination with things
most would find less than semi-interesting
and so what if my self-confidence is tattered,
or if I only have an average sized ego,
contrary to what I'll tell other people
and even if it never makes any difference,
or if I never realize my potential
My chances with women with steadily decline
until I'm rendered undateable
I'll continue to seek solace in drugs
because I've never been partial to things like girls
and the act of reproduction
I embrace inadequacy
Its all the rage;
I'm the ******* cliche
And I lack social grace
All aboard the bandwaggon,
Because all my friends and I
have the same hair
and general outlook on life
Some people have real problems and some have lives,
I don't think I fit into either of those percentages
I'm bound to live without meaning
for the rest of my days
because I've ****** up everything
I've ever felt meant anything
you can see it in my face,
behind this facade I put on
Smile :)
