You see yourself in the mirror every day
But what you see is not true
And no matter how much you want your eyes to be brown
They're not. They're blue.
And cuts don't stop bleeding
Just because you want them to
They heal with time
Just like your thoughts do
And why are we all taught as kids
That money is worthless
And then are encouraged
To make lemonade stands and deliver daily press
And how come they tell us
That books are suppose to be comprehended in a certain way
If that's not how I understand it,
And those are not the things I heard the writer say
How come that on a freezing December night
The only bus that is not going to come on time
Is exactly the one we are waiting for?
It should be called a crime...
Or some people call it karma
They say that what you do always comes back
But you still do stupid things
And all you think about is do the punishments stack.
Cicmila
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