I can't miss you if you won't leave,
Go back across the highway to your own town,
Your own snooty, suburban world.
You are not the same as others,
Perhaps a snotty brat who is misunderstood,
Yet I don't understand you.
Only the misunderstood
Understand the misunderstood.
So, you are just trifling.
You're just confused about your feelings.
Your life is one in which
Everyone has told you what to feel.
You are not accustomed
To doing things on your own.
You try to write of your bad times
But it comes out fluff.
You haven't found your niche.
You haven't found your mind,
You still allow others to trample you.
You've read my work,
Dampened your spirits
And wished for a life of struggles,
But honey, it ain't all fun and games
Because my words, my special train of thought,
Are all I get to wake up to.
Maybe you were fine the way you were,
Why change if you have nothing to change to?