Starting a day full of repeated patterns and connections
Ends in a sigh as I am only reduced to a plain-faced number
In a sea of already condemned equations that society has placed on us
Our lives seem like nothing special
We are toyed into thinking that our status means nothing,
Our achievements mean nothing,
Our lives mean nothing
The media feeds off this desolation by pouring conflicting truths and lies
We take for granted
It forces us into forcing our way onto others
Climbing the crumbling stairs they built for us
This competition only has the corrupt and soon to be corrupted
And I ask, who’s fault is that?
Should I stand on a stage so you can validate me?
Must I be a movie star or singer beloved by all?
Do I have to be someone I’m not just to move you? To please you?
Aren’t I already shoved down into the depths of society
With the only light provided is by them?
And I ask, whose fault is that?
We live like this in order to survive
The mass media and society join in matrimony and sweep us in their arms—
Ready to begin an affair of oppression
Playing as judges already convicting us of being unworthy—
Proven to be guilty by blind scrutinizing eyes
As I’m cast aside with the rest
And peek up at the ones who survive—
I can’t help but ask, whose fault is that?
Whose fault is it?
Whose is it?
(Victims of self-reproach)