They say it gets easier as you get older
That you stop being scared and your only fear is being late to work
If that's true, then why am I sitting here rocking back and forth
Praying that the sick feeling in my stomach will go away
That these monsters in my thoughts will fade so that I may sleep?
They say you'll find real friends when you get older
What do you define as a friend?
Someone who you see at school and share a few jokes and secrets with
Then go home and act like you never knew each other?
Someone you pretend you aren't broken and lonely with?
Someone you see pictures of with their friends on nights out
But never get that same opportunity even though they promise you will soon?
They say the loneliness doesn't last, that it gets better
Then why do I still feel empty?
Why do I wonder if watching a blade slice through my skin,
Watching the blood glide down my arm will drown my sadness?
Why am I convinced everyone around me is "better off" if I'm dead?
That I'm that wart that just won't go away?
Why are "they" always wrong?
Who decided the world isn't full of pain?
Full of heartache and betrayal and neverending evil
What is it about man that makes him so coldhearted?
Is it because we are nothing more than a leaf on the wind
One day here and the next gone
Our lives insignificant and meaningless?
So much so that we busy ourselves with relationships and material goods
And mindnumbing entertainment to sedate us into thinking we have control over our lives
When we really don't