Scattered pieces

Why does the bad look so good?

Why is the right so wrong?

Things are distorted in this world. 

I wanted to see,

I wanted to be free,

I just needed to find the key;

The key to seeing beyond what is already there,

I think we can't see because its just too rare,

Not all that shines is gold.

But I realize its because its too much to bare;

To bare with the weight of having seen,

And still being too mean,

But still wanting to look clean;

The answer lies in the crowd,

As they shout about the wrong being right out loud,

Its as if they were proud;

                                                                                      
                                                                                     

But we decide to follow the rest,

and forget about what's best,

Its as if we willingly decided to be oppressed. 

What a cruel world we live in,

One where everything is just a spin,

And one carries who one is in a pin.

As if actions had repercussions,

and we try and figure out why in discussions,

when we initially understood the consequences.

But either way we follow the crowd,

And we hear them scream what's wrong is right very loud,

and we still follow them somehow. 

It is a rather strange world where we live in,

Where things just spin,

can we truly say we're free?

In a world where we have the best examples,

We choose to take the wrong paths just to become a sample, 

and then we get trampled;

And we get trampled we complain,

As if the world were insane,

And we forget we have a brain;

We scream "why does this happen to me!?," 

As if we were more special than thee,

and we forget we're just one more in the house of bees.

We knew what we were getting into,

Because we knew the world had been lying from our own window,

And we knew what would come from below.

And we still expect for the world to fix it, 

A world made just of scattered pieces,

Where things are just meant to make you dizzy.