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To set the tone, I feel all alone, My breath chills me to the bone, In many ways I have grown, Others, though, remain unknown, For what sin do you wish for me to atone? What I thought I have attained, Every step of the way was pained, Never has it been easy, its always rained, Peter Pan has now been maimed, My innocence shed, my life is now stained, Terror has been the king which has reigned, But I am still here, only I have remained. There is not much left to hate, So on what in life can I place an emotional rate, They say life is guided by fate, What's that, something I can berate? I will be on my own, never will I find a mate, Myself I will deflate, Only to make myself irate, And the system I will constipate, On what more can I debate? There is not much left to love, Life is like a tight glove, They all pray to one above, While they take turns shooting a dove, And then they ask me why I push and shove! |