I’m a little less sure of today than I was yesterday,
I’m a little less certain of what is right and what is wrong,
I’m a little less happy of what my life’s become,
But I can’t see that because I can’t know that.

In this great big world,
What kind of pretend happiness can we have?
What kind of person can I be
If I turn a blind eye to what I know.

I’m a little more cautious of how I act,
And I’m a little more disappointed today, of all days,
But I’m a little more censored when I speak my mind,
But I can’t see that because I won’t admit that.

In this great big world,
I fall apart when I cannot breathe.
And in my heart of hearts,
I cannot breathe frequently.

I’m a little more sad when I wake up alone.
And I’m a little less hopeful when I fall asleep at night.
But I’m a little more realistic as I go through my day,
Because you have to be taught not to dream.

As I gasp for air, to catch my breath,
I cry for the insignificant and the misunderstood,
Because in this great big world,
No one looks for me.

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