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This pain called life
This pain is great in our minds
Poor, rich, doesn’t matter in our finds
All is lost but all is there in front of us
We never notice all around us
So much happiness, so many possibilities, but we lose touch
We whine and moan in our "grief" of nothing such
We hurt others and hurt ourselves the most
Or so we think of this the most
But you never know who you hurt the most till they are dead and gone
Then you are there, with the blood soaked hands of the ones gone
You pushed and pushed, now you are to blame
You want nothing but fame
How many must you hurt till your thirst is quenched?
Only person you hurt is yourself, by causing everyone misery and death
