each to their own

she's growing up
she gets a cd
and the darkness she loves
she believes it is who she is
she believes she is like them
she believes she'll grow into her own skin

He sees things through broken glasses
that distort the world
and refuses to see the cracks in his lenses
instead believing that his eyes are the problem
and that his mind is broken

Theres the one who never can see what she's done wrong this week
and that she dosen't just hurt herself
she's loved as much as she is hated
while she cuts and bleeds, and when she stops
she screams
she can whoever she wants
but always needs more

The one who is wise
full of innocent wonder at jealousy
from people she is closest to
and cannot understand
why her happiness
drags them down

and there is the artificial star
living on a laugh
earned from the poor and bedraggled
who wont defend themselves from someone stronger
with their friends laughing from behind them

Theres the individuals
to many to count
who are faceless and monochromatic
and spin past
to fast to count

theres me, who am I?
just another face for sure,
I think I'm just like them.