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Shoes
Thick clouds pass over day light.
I wish I could take an hour to myself.
So I could just lie in the grass,
and write about my thoughts on heaven and hell.
Thick clouds pass over my head.
I wish that sometimes I could clear the air,
and If I were to now drop dead,
tell me who would care?
Why do we suffer from pressure?
Why can't we be at ease?
If you say you can answer one question,
why wouldn't it be these?
Do we really, honestly need to make sense?
Nothing does, if you think about life.
Sometimes I think I'm so content,
until darkness shawdows my light.
Where have all my friends run off to?
So many have left me here.
Where did my sense of humor go?
When I was telling jokes last year.....
I was told a long time ago,
not to lie, but be discrete.
Would you tell me, your highness, you love me,
with no shoes upon my feet?
If I was poor, wouild you accept me?
If you seen my house, would you compare?
What ever happened to personality?
You all act like it's not there.
No, I'm going to take the time...
Heaven: To be popular like you.
"Oh no, the horror of her cloths".
Hell is what she goes through.
I was just like her at one time,
because I was being my self.
But I got picked on every time,
the "A Class" put me through hell.
What if you knew, what I went through?
Is she not average just like you?
Think aboiut all thoes people in the world,
who cannot even afford to buy shoes.
Why can't people look past clothing?
I know that I do.
Sometimes...I guess I'm a stereotype...
and now I'm just like you.
Thick clouds pass over everything.
What will University be like?
It makes me so sad that you feel this way,
and now this is what it feels like.
Superior.
Is there a word best to describe?
I'll tell you everything about me,
but I won't tell what I'm like.
Why do we have to discriminate?
Make fun of all the faces?
And tell me this one last thing....
if you did not like the shoes I wear...
would you tie my laces?
