Who am I to question life?
Who am I to question strife?
Who am I to question making?
Taking, breaking
The faces and their faking
About what really matters in their life
The hate, it's consuming
Who am I? I'm losing
Buried deep with no one near
Where are those that I hold dear?
Who am I without them?
Who am I? I doubt them
Doubt the deeds
Doubt the leads
Doubt what everyone truly sees
A perfect pretty person
Nothing wrong, except me
Who am I to question?
To question what? I'm worse
Than anyone who knows me
But no one really knows me
Except those that I hold dear
Those who never seem to be near
Who am I alone?
Someday I will be gone
With nothing left, still waiting
Amongst the making, taking, breaking
The faces and their faking
No one really cares that I can never see
All they ever care about is that I stay
Perfect, little
Me