Why worry about what other people think about you

She the only opinion that matters is your own on yourself

Just be the best you can on your own and whoever can't handle that
well, that's their problem.

We never really need to know everything about a person
Their deepest worries, their darkest secrets, their most personal emotions.

And yet we spend so much of our time trying to find all his out
For what purpose?

Inadvertently, we are stealing a little piece of their life from them
It doesn't benefit us, we don't need to obsess, yet we do.

Maybe because we want to know that others feel the same way we do,
Maybe we just need to know that others have dark lasts as well


But don't we know this either way?

I want to be able to write a symphony,
something that touches the hearts of others,
something so beautiful you want to be a part of it.

But there is too much anger inside
resentment, frustration, rebellion
to ever stop and calm myself down
just long enough to write down
all the perfection I can see in the world
in little pockets of time

Oh course, guess who is the scapegoat again,
when your perfect boy lies to you
you don't even want to see the holes.

Do you really not trust me that much?
What have I ever done to deserve this?
I try to be that perfect daughter you want me to be

at least in your presence

but I'm done.

There are way to many huge flaws in everything
so I'm done with it all.

So many eyes
each and every one judging.

The only way to be free
is to keep
your thoughts
your heart
your words
in a secret

We are all fake
passing in the halls with a smile

did you hear,
have you seen?


shh


But that's it.
No meaning,
maybe a sharing of insecurities
but these are never understood.

We just judge,
and watch,
talk about others,
and talk behind each others back.

Will we ever just


                                                              ­      STOP






...and see what is going on here?

                                                          ­                                    We don't belong together


but there is no one else

We are just here wasting our lives,
crammed in a florescent room.
Pale walls, monotonous voice.
Expecting us to focus
on things that don't even matter.
While we could be out there
making a difference in something.
But instead they force us into
a florescent room with pale walls.