To know all the ways I fully understand my life would be a book, thick and
Full but filled with blank pages, except one, that describes how I don’t understand
And yet I find no one would read this book because I don’t really know who would
All these lies I’ve been telling myself and every one else I’ve lost, in life and love
I feel, though, I’m not the one to blame Ask any of my family and they say I am
Why did fall? What made me break down and finally reveal my secrets? Why?
If not for my deep depression, which I still find myself in, I would be with my dad
I don’t understand the whole world, If you don’t have the right thoughts, your mad
Mad, meaning crazy, who is anyone to call whom crazy, You want a difference,
Leave the world alone and you’ll get one. We are all people. We are all imperfect.
