Why Me?

I’m not a troublemaker
Don’t strike me with thunder

I’m not blinded by my pride,
I think of the consequence,
I mean, I try.

I just get a little greedy, a little
needy, and misdirected by my feelings.

I want to know why? Why me?
Why me?!
Always gotta be weighed down by a burden.

A lot of them I don’t deserve,
but life doesn’t throw the right kind of curves.

Why me?! Who knows?
I certainly don’t, but I try
Try to think why?

Why did I make that move,
Go down that road, make that turn?

Who knows? I just want to find out.
I am not a troublemaker, sometimes.
I try to do right, do good, be smart.

Sometimes, I just feel like I’m always
at fault. Why me?

I am not a troublemaker, although
I’m greedy, a little needy, because
I feel like a weakling.

I keep repeating, hoping to discover
the answer to the question, why me?

I try a lot, I try hard. I don’t get far,
sometimes. I get by, I move on, but
not far.

Why? Why me? What should I have
done? Why didn’t I do the right thing?

I never know the answer. I get these
epiphanies that feel like an
answer, but don’t cover the question.

So I toss them out. I pack away the
doubts and try to do right again.

I feel, I am just a troublemaker,
trying too hard, failing expectations;
my expectations.

Strike me with the consequences,
I can take them. However, I’m
needy, emotionally greedy.

I need someone to be there.
I need someone to care.
Someone to hug and stroke my hair.

Yeah. That’s not manly.
I have childish feelings.

They don’t understand me.
I hate them.

We don’t get along.
Sometimes we fight.

They’re hard to ignore
When their grip is tight.
I choke getting teary eyed. 

I’m a trouble making weakling,
strike me with thunder!

Cowardice, my hero,
will rescue me before the end.

Back with Suicidal Thoughts

What was that? They’re back? 

Running around, playing, inviting
danger 

Looks like I won’t make it to work tomorrow
Got a date with a bridge and a nasty end.

Ha. Cut it out, suicidal thoughts.

Back again because they drove me insane.
Running amok and you’ve arrived
in time to enjoy the whirlwind.

If being weak and weak willed didn’t describe me
you wouldn’t have had to come back.

To scared to jump, to smart to walk in front of 
tractor trailers, unlike the deer.

I should be hellbent and probably petrified, but
willing nonetheless, to meet my end
like a squirrel i once met.

Very brief, in a length of five, maybe six minutes.
I spotted a squirrel. In the mid-lane of a highway
sitting there.  

Don’t know if he was scared, to me he appeared
stoned. Stone cold still, only able to twitch.

As
my cousin sped down the road. Under the car,
life spared once again. Not sure how long he
(or she) had been there.

Looking back, still in the road, fog rolls in
the memory gone.

Maybe that squirrel met
his end, perhaps he recovered and decided,

becoming a furry pancake was not
the answer.

I don’t blame him, I am chicken too.
So I play along with you, ignoring them.

Suicidal thoughts, you are more stable
than these feelings I live with.

Good-bye now, they’ve fallen quiet.
I’ll see you again, at their next riot.

(Source: drwispureofheart.xanga.com)