People, please, who am I?
Is it only the mountains that hears my cry?
Rolling over vast deserts and plains,
Holding me back like shackles and chains,
From life as I want it, as it could be,
Something no other person can see,
Why must no other understand indivuality?
A simple of offering of yourself of you, and not me.
I mean, people, people, I am so SICK,
of hueless colours and no say in what you pick!
Of everyone following someone else's style,
making sure the populars are on your speed dial.
Break through your shackles, and come totally out!
Let the sun shine on your face with nary a doubt,
about ruined complexion or nonperfect skin,
because its all you see everywhere agian and agian.
Breathe in and out, smell the fresh air!
Learn how to live without a single selfish care!
But wait, I forgot, the world doesnt want to see,
what makes you special and what makes me me.
The worls wants to see us all supresssed,
a single body in one fashionable dress.
So no wonder nobody heeds my all alone cry,
as I wonder for us all, "Who am I?"