Tell Me (Produced by Malcolm Smalls)
Build me up.
Break me down..
Then make me a slave for you.
Each day I wonder what more I can give,
How strenuously I must work,
To attain something so superficial.
My eyes water, I feel unimportant.
Another nobody, pained, but never heard.
What is beauty?
A face of perfection, blemish-free, printed across a magazine, for all of our eyes to see?
Awaiting our comments, our praise, our worship.
What about the landscapes that we’ll never witness?
Do those wither away from unacknowledgement?
Then why must I continue?
Continue bending, mending, breaking, reconstructing myself.
To fit the continually changing tastes of other people.
Who shun the different, while trying so hard to stand out.
I’m back to the drawing board.
Trying to sketch out the perfect person I can become,
The cool, the respected, the loved. Their cheers hitting me like a stroke of wind on a summer day.
I wallow in the same ideas that torment me.
Knowing damn well that the wind that brings me such joy.
Can also destroy everything in it’s path
I am no match for Mother Nature
What even matters?