Special

There are some things that just aren't meant to be...

Music is my passion. It is my soul. It is my lover.

But I am such a terrible musician.

I'm not creative

Not anymore, at least.

I'm just a phony.

I want it.

I want it so badly.

But it's getting harder...

I'm getting older...

Music is getting better...

I'm getting worse...

My friends are going to school...

They're doing something with their lives....

They can afford it.

I come from a poor family.

I come from a broken home of artist...

My mother is a child..

I take care of her.

She tells me how terrible I am..

My sister, a lion.

Eats all my food..

Me, the enigma...

The mystery....

"What's he gonna do...?"

That's what I hear...

That's what I think they're saying...

All eyes on me...

Sometimes, I'd rather not have lived

But rather observed life instead.

But then what would I be?

Pretty much the same thing now....

Apart from everyone...

Looking in from the outside...

observing the laughter...

the love...

the sex...

Thinking I'm special...

Not actually being special...

Just an outsider

watching people grow,

letting life pass me by...

where did I go wrong?