Toughts

My head is like a wishing well.
Dropping memories like coins.
And I sometimes like to look through my well,
to relive life through memories.

Like this time someone said something about me.
Or like this time someone talked to me
And it really gets me wondering.
Why did they say that.
Why did they do that.
What where they trying to say.

We're they trying to be rude?
Be nice?
Do they hate me?
Why do they hate me?
Does everyone hate me?
Everyone hates me.
 Why does everyone hate me?
In pondered moments, questions start to breed,
Why did they say those words?
What did they mean?

Is it because I'm ugly?
Is it because I'm annoying?
Is it because I'm dumb?
Is it because I'm a bad person?
Is it because I'm weird?
It's probably because I am ugly annoying dumb a bad person and weird.

I am ugly annoying dumb a bad person and weird.
I am ugly annoying dumb a bad person and weird.
I am ugly annoying dumb a bad person and weird.

It's because I'm myself.
It's because I'm myself
It's because I'm myself

Why should I even get out of bed?
Why should I even eat?
Why should I even talk to to people?
Why should I even look in a mirror?
Why should I even exist?
Why should I.
Why should I.
why