why me?

I love to be random
I love to be free

but all I can think about a the moment is,
why me?

Why am I crazy?
No one knows.

Why am I lazy?
The selection grows and grows

people always asks the simple question: why them?
But the question seems to add to the mayhem.

Why do I do the things I do?
Oh how that answer is long overdue.

Why do I love books that are so untrue?
If only I knew.

Once again that brings us back to the question: why me?
But that answer no one can ever see.

The truth is no one will ever no the answer,
to that simple question: why me?