Nobody will ever know how I feel,
For I can't clarify everything.
No one to love,
No one to fault,
Everybody dependably the same.
Nothing to think about,
No motivation to lie,
For I am me, myself, and I.
Nobody sees what I see,
No one remaining to watch over me.
It's sort of tragic recognizing what's valid,
'Cause then you know who's there for you.
A large portion of them simply put on that show.
A great deal of them speak awful about me in the face of my good faith.
A debt of gratitude is in order for influencing me to feel along these lines,
There's nothing more I ought to need to state.
Every one of the circumstances I was distant from everyone else
Influences me to feel unusual when somebody's home.
No family for help, no companions to mind.
Individuals ask why I don't go anyplace.
Consistently weeping late into the night,
At times I wish somebody cherished me.
No expectation, no affection, no life, no companions.
The agony never closes.
At times I ask what did I do to merit this.
Be that as it may, no one answers.
A voice in my mind instructs me to overlook the awful and recollect great.
In any case, at that point I reply to myself saying there is no great to recollect.
I generally holler at myself inquiring as to why me? Why?
Sitting in an unfilled extra room.
Nobody to converse with about how I feel.
Nobody to ask me what I feel.
Is it accurate to say that anyone is out there in this brutal world we live in?
Once in a while I start to ponder.
Once in a while I'm brutal on myself.
Morn comes and I wake up wanting to be never conceived.
