Sitting here outside
Why my life is do f**ked up
Looking to the stars
They are shining so brightly
I sometimes wish that I was a star
Just hanging there, no worries, no love, no questions
Why is life so complicated?
I just don’t get it anymore
My poems are my diary pages
No one may read them, only if I let them to
My diary is full with anger, fear, hate, broken hearts, love, insecurity, . . .
Why is love against me?
What do I so wrong
Why don’t they love me?
Why does nobody cares about my feelings?
All f**ked up questions were no one could find an answer
But Hey, I guess that called: My Life!
