Why do I bother trying to be someone else?
When no one even realizes that I’m making an effort,
Just to please them and there selfish needs,
No one ever comes to me when sad to comfort,
I find I always help other before I help myself,
That is something I like about me,
But why can't anyone else do the same,
Can they not be bothered or can they not see,
For a person to be so very blind,
Is beyond my own belief,
So wrapped up in there imperfect lives,
Non-existent to those in grief,
If you’re crying and they look your way,
Don’t look back as they will just seize,
To break you bit by bit,
Like you’re some deadly disease,
They can never spend a moment of there time,
On someone who may just need 'it’s going to be ok',
They just look over there shoulder,
As if there world nothing is being portrayed.
