I like this little room of mine
Where I can go whenever I’ve time;
The place where I can contemplate
About the past, future, and my current state.
I honestly think I’ve reached the stage–
A situation I can’t comprehend,
When looking older than my actual age
Is no longer a compliment.
I truly have been through a lot,
Yet there’s no hint of it to spot;
They used to tell me I would grow stronger,
But I got weak, can’t hold any longer.
I was told I would get wise,
But fell in love which is now past,
My broken heart became the price;
I turned out to be a fool at last.
Will my death be followed
By mourning, regrets or sorrow?
No, the world won’t care at all;
I’m feeling so tiny and small.
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