I can’t help but wonder,
But that’s all I do,
But rarely any experience.
I don’t get those chances,
I just spectate,
To see others at dances,
While I listen to people dictate,
That’s all I’ve done with life,
I have no feeling or strife.
Only to be used at another’s whim,
But no one worries,
To you my light is dim,
Pity caring, maybe that’s how I look at it,
Those favors so glaring,
To give others happiness that I’ve never had,
Never showing myself so sad,
Maybe I’m selfish for helping others so much,
The problem might’ve been myself.
My views so negative,
But it’s hard to be positive,
In midst of struggle,
Of the conflicts within,
The world around laughing behind you,
Plotting revenge and spilling your guts,
When all I wanted was the experience,
That joy others were able to enjoy.
It probably is me,
Pushing away care and love,
The attention, the spotlight,
I never want it,
Passive and conforming,
I pass silent,
Just listening to the rumors,
Hearing the atrocities,
Never hearing any good,
But I’ll never have that chance,
Experience, that I never have.
Being happy has never been a trait,
I don’t know how to embrace it,
I just try to escape,
Run away from myself,
Farther away from this tragedy,
That none has never experienced,
Happiness I so long,
I continue to repel,
Until I’m left with my depressing self.