Frzn Drms

We're all built upon a rusty floor
And soon after we grow to learn how to clean it
We make promises only to wait for them to be broken
And show the love that isn't really there, holding masks
That only show what people want to see
We say things that aren't true and strive so hard
To be happier than those around us
We put on this facade only to come to the conclusion
That we're all mock-ups and imitations of the people we wish to be.
We do ignorant things to fit in, and try so hard to unique
And later to discover that we're really all the same.
Sometimes we want t run to a world where no one really exists.
A utopia of the things that seem almost impossible.
We want to live our dreams, and desire the things we cannot have.
We work so hard to get nothing, and break apart
Because we didn't get what, all along, we really wanted
We fancy to have what others don't and in the end find that you feel
No different than the rest.
We're hungry for love, and affection
But we anticipate whether the love and affection we get
Is fiction or factual.
We listen to the stories of happiness we yearn to be true but ignore
The stories of sorrow we believe to be lies.
People steal the things they want, and later turn our backs upon them.
Why doesn't it seem so all right? Should it feel so wrong?
I want so much for the world to be different, I want the promises
To remain unbroken, and only to hear truth.
Am I the only one who hasn't cleaned the rusty floor beneath us,
The only one who hasn't learned what reality may really be?
Does it make me like everyone else?
Dreaming for the things that are unreal and crying for things I am not able to attain.
Am I asking for the impossible?
Or is it only impossible for me.
Am I the only one who feels lost in a crowd of fakes.
Or can you see it too?