Utter Nonesense

The burger looks scrumptious and you want to buy that hat
       Solution: get both and you’ll be poor and be fat!
The fat girls complain they’re too plump and round
       When the skinny girls drop they don’t make a sound
You can’t cast a shadow until you step into the light
If you think couplets are annoying, then damn you, you’re right
But the world’s a dichotomy, nothing is plain
       The ones called genius are certifiably insane 
And all we want is to feel we belong
` so we lock ourselves up and say nothing’s wrong
And even I’ll run and say that I’m shy
But when the people go away I just want to die
Perhaps you’ve deduced this poem’s got no plan
Or is the stench of my grammar all you understand?
But there’s a fool who thinks they’re unique and puts down the crowds all around
       Hear the voice of the “original”; you’ll hear just one sound
And by the way my back is aching from this position
Am I gonna move? No, just listen
My writing was better when I was young
Better form, themes, and more fun
Well wasn’t the sky bluer back in our day?
How much we bemoan our aging can amaze
Yet as a child I tapped my feet for the years to go by
Waiting for the age when I could drive and fly
That age isn’t all it’s cracked up to be kid
Just be happy and shut your lid
Now to dance is to move with a sense of a beat
Meaning no fun, no improvisation, or else face defeat
Perhaps you find me a tad bit dark
Or mayhap I have not yet made my mark
I try to find balance to no avail
When it comes down to it, I’m really just a fail
Self-esteem is overrated, just give up my friend
(but when you succeed at failure, does the tale ever end?)
A wheel keeps on rolling ‘til the end of all we know
Maybe it will reach the end of this poem!
And the hope is disintegrating in front of their eyes
But for those children God holds a surprise
Sweet life is what we must pursue
Though a command to live is not a theme new
So why write this poem, and challenge to rhyme?
Especially when my pairs were not quite sublime
No answer, but, why can we not stop asking why
Even a question with an answer that will terrify
And I see that this road can be left, right, or straight
Do make a decision or we’ll all be irate
Whose we, you ask, of which you refer?
Oh just me the schizophrenic chauffeur
Oooh that was a weird one, the critics will scoff
Well a critic is stupid…my creativity is off
Lala I no more think of good lines
This is what happens when your brain turns to brine
As I reach my end, remember to smile at the shadows you find
And that stranger with candy may truly be kind
So don’t doubt the world every second
Don’t judge the people and you won’t feel as threatened
So when the world goes on outside the pen
Just cry and see what will happen
Who knows if your fairy godmother will appear? 
Having been summoned by a single tear.
Now to speak is to make the abstract concrete
And to write yields something still more discreet
To release tension? or of creativity reaffirm
For indeed there’s always something that will make us squirm.  
“Oh ye of little faith”, you are bored I see
Now is the moment I deem you free