Broken

I want to die, I want to live,

Mostly I wonder, what can I give,

To this world, that it doesn't own,

Do I have my own purpose, am I just a clone?

Or maybe, perhaps, my life is on loan.

Am I just a Barbie, all dolled up?

Am I just a cultist, drinking from the cup?

Another statistic, dying too soon?

Just another song bird, singing the same tune?

Oh, I get it, I'm a joker; a bafoon.

Or will I break out, right out of the mold?

A single sheep, straying too far from the fold?

Will I fess up and write my page in life?

Will I stand up and do away with strife?

Or will I just fall, a victim to my knife?

Will I become somebody that matters?

Or will my life just remain in tatters?

Just broken pieces of a washed up soul.

Scattered all around the ground like coal.

Or will I get reborn, birthed new as a foal?

Or will I just stay here, broken and alone?

Will I stay frozen, no place to call my home?

Will I still wake up every morning and cry?

Because sometime in the night, I just didn't die?

Will I have to fake my smile and say I'm alright?

Nothing ever mattered to me when I was growin'

Up, because I just knew that my rhymes would keep me goin'

But I feel like my life just isn't mine anymore

Like I'm just somebody who's holding the door

For others only to let go and get kicked to the floor.

The moral of the story tho, and here's where it gets real,

Is that it doesn't really matter about what I feel.

All that matters is that I just go help another

Because we all know I could just get smothered.

But if I go, where will that leave my mother?