Stop trying to be something that you are not.
They don't see how much the words mean,
you could lay down in a pool of your own tears, and they would just walk on by.
Who are we?
What good have we done?
Where are the answers of our questions?
Who are we?
Walking in a world where no one looks a second time
at a face like mine.
I want you to give me a reason
why I keep trying to pretend that I mean anything
to anyone.
Who am I?
What good have I done?
Where are the answers of these still forgotten questions?
Who am I?
They all said I have a talent, that somehow I am special
But as I write these words unrhymed, I still go unnoticed. Second-rate, inferior to the rest of the world.
So again I ask you cold, unfeeling mirror.
Why can't you lie to me?
Why can't you show me who I was meant to be,
instead of who I am.
