No One Cares
I don’t know why, I might be born a fool,
But is it really that hard to imagine the root,
The core of why I’m doing what I do.
Is it so unbelievable that I can’t even get it myself,
Yet I know what I do and why and why I help,
And I’m proud and I’m just me and that’s my spell.
Was it put in my mind by a higher power somewhere,
Why can’t I see others, why am I the only one here,
Acting against my own sake is sometimes hard to bear.
Will it all bounce back to me some day,
Wouldn’t that make all my actions vain,
Taking away from those that took,
What I gave with nothing to expect.
Is there this holy balance where some way,
I won’t be dying alone and in pain,
Like all these stories in a book,
Where all I keep craving for I get.
In the end, we’re all alone,
Circling each other endlessly,
Day for day, trapped in our past,
Lasting for what we can never reach,
Our own worst enemies,
The thieves of our own dreams,
Prisoners of our own conception,
Forced upon us by all our lies.
And no one will ever care about these lines.
-Max
I love this. I do.
Laetitia said this on November 5th, 2007 at 16:14