All the people around me, they talk everything out.
They say whatever they feel, all the senseless sentences.
They never feel like they're lying to themselves,
They carry on with meaningless references.
Why can't I do the same?
Why do I consider it inane?
All my values differ so,
I find it hard to explain.
When people always can confide,
Why do I keep it bottled up?
When people dream of fame and wealth,
Why do I consider it beneath myself?
When the explanation is satisfactory to most,
Why do I argue over it?
When people pray and believe,
Why do I fight it so?
Why do I condemn religion,
Why can't I let it go?
When my peers diss culture,
Art of all kinds;
When they listen to music
That I wouldn't want to define,
Why do I try to differ so,
Why do I care about never being stereotyped?
There was a time, not long ago,
I used to be so proud of myself.
I was different and knew it,
I introspected and thought about it.
I was the round peg in the square hole,
Enjoying myself but never quite fitting in.
But now I'm tired, it's all an act.
I've been pretending to be who I'm not.
And now I don't know who I am,
I don't know who I was.
I smile at everybody around,
I make many an easy friend.
People say they love me,
But I know it isn't for who I am.
And what other way is there of being loved?
For love is but an illusion of the mind.
And I've almost stopped believing,
That each friend is there to stay.
For they say it around every time,
But I know they never get me,
They don't understand my rhyme.
They don't get my art, the bubbling ocean in my mind.
Still, I didn't give up on myself,
I stayed the way I wanted to.
And I never thought that one day,
I'd rather not be true.
True to myself, the person I am,
The person I worked hard to be.
I never thought that one day,
I'd hope to be a square peg.
Fitting into every place I'm meant,
Keeping my toes in the line.
Sleeping soundly at night, for once content.
I never thought I'd be sick of myself,
Sick of what I was proud to be.
I'm still young, I really thought,
I had a long way to go.
I wanted to be radical in thought,
Keep perspective in my action,
And never stop dreaming.
But right now I'd give up my pen,
Give up my world of words.
Give up the art I struggled to create,
Give up the callings that defined me.
For what if I were to change that definition,
What if I caged that soul which was free?
I never thought I'd feel this way,
I never quite believed it.
I never before let my soul down so deep,
That it might be tough to retrieve it.
Maybe this is just a phase,
Wishful thinking of my overworked mind.
Soon I'd wake up and be me again,
The me I worked so hard to be.
Maybe all this never happened,
Because I find it tough to believe.
I never ever thought that one day,
I'd want to be someone who was never me.
I never thought I'd mold myself,
According to what people want me to be.