Why should I?

Why should I, brag about

The places I’ve decided to go out,

The things that are under my possessions,

Each moment with exaggerated locations?

Why should I, spend time

So much on someone’s kind,

That I forget to live mine?

Why should I, go after

Things that shake my laughter,

And each time they’re brought,

Give nothing but poor thoughts?

Why should I, scroll down

The feeds of clowns,

To see the same faces,

With different charm and damn phases?

Why should I, talk about myself

To those who never hail to help?

Why should I, feel sympathetic

For who has never been alive,

With their unbearable part?