All the kids
Are doing their drugs
And I wonder if I should feel sorry for them
Or praise their freedom
If the lines
Of fiction and reality blur
Why don't we just collect them
And snort them through a straw
We're all just cliches anyway
Just passing time to another day
And sometimes I wonder what the point is, but then again
Does it matter?
Just to live
And let live
Is it good enough?
Or should I be striving for something?
Problem is
I've forgotten what it was
That mattered so much
Back when everything seemed so goddamn important
I keep on falling in love
With every smart girl who's smart enough to know she is
But what's the difference? If they're all special
Is anyone special? Is anything special?
If nothing's special
Then what is it I'm looking so hard for?
When you get past all the bullshit, what's left?
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Very nice. I had a similar conversation with one of my friends the other day about how everyone is cliché, and trying not to be cliché is kind of cliché. Anyway...
"If the lines
Of fiction and reality blur
Why don't we just collect them
And snort them through a straw."
I loved those lines. They are so very interesting. great write! -
I can feel the rage and the raw emotion in this, your words speak worlds of feeling. I love that last line, it's so very true when dealing with this kind of thing. Powerful.
Well penned,
~lost
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