Sick

Sick

I'm sick of all those people,
with something to prove.
They think about thier own ways
And feel they have nothing to lose.

I'm sick of those stubborn ones
trying to prove thier worth.
They cannot feel hurt
so thier the worst.

I'm sick of those who are empty.
They want to hide thier lives,
thier souless and barren
because they are cowards, hidden on the inside.

I'm sick of those who are foolish,
and so they never ever frown.
Thier sense of reality is always above the ground.

I'm sick of all these people,
sick of thier ways.
But then I found I'm like them...

We're just the same.