I'm like the grass being stepped on for no apparent reason.
I'm like the rain drops hitting the ground full of power because it's that time in the season.
I'm like the dust that pollutes the air.
My life is over, but hey who cares?
I'm like this paper being hurt by this pen like I did something wrong.
The truth is I have been hurt, punished jest of all along.
What kind of signs is this world trying to send.
I would give and do anything for this madness to end.
