So, Why? What is your answer? What is your solution?
Is your reply nothing but a dream? If so, why? Why are you so settled in your reality?
Why can't you just admit your emotions?
Without an ever-changing world, how do you change?
Stagnant and stale in a pool of your supposed self worth,
Why do you consider yourself so much higher?
The hierarchy collapses in this imagined realm,
This is not the reality you always believed and followed.
I wear my clothes and brush my hair; we are similar in this,
But my clothes portray my self, my hair is dyed,
And you stand before me in the same style as all the others.
Where is your sense of self-worth when you are exactly like anyone else?
So where is your reality?
Is it so far away from the truth?
Sooner or later the throne you sit on will be split in half, and then
Where will you go for oblivion?
It is too late for you to hold me in friendship,
Too late for you to repent and regret your dystopian dreams,
But I hope, for the sake of truth,
That your reality becomes something that has an answer
When you finally ask it, "Why?"