Mother always told me,
About those that live on the streets,
People who never have food to eat,
The third-world countries, fighting for meat.
I'd learn and learn, about the shit I live in,
Neverending wars worlds away,
Most happiness long hidden,
Families astray.
Children who get beaten and abused,
People who drown their sorrows in drugs and alcohol,
Those so used,
They jump to leave it all.
All this taught me was that my problems didn't matter,
Because everybody else's were far worse,
My heart ready to shatter,
Holes in my emotions leaving craters.
But this doesn't matter, I have to be grateful,
I'm not really suffering, it's fake.
My life is great right, I mean that's what they all lull,
Feeling is one of the mistakes I make.
We're all jealous of each other's problems,
Letting our own fester and grow.
We pass our sadness on to each other in the end,
Because we're too slow.
Too slow to stop our own before they spread.