I write because I'm neither
Sad or mad
But more becasue I am confused
My life feels used
I write for I know not what to do
Not in the sense to buy this or that shoe
But on a higher issue
Like "What is love?" or "Can I fly like a dove?"
Those questions are hard
Not to be answered with just one card
And life costs more than one penny
Life is priceless, but it seems like many
I don't know how
But that is what life is now
The hate makes me cry
A storm can cause you to die
A storm inside your mind
One that will put you in a bind
For my awakness is about to drop
This is why I must stop
 
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