When something's mine,
I try to make it my style,
And people steal it like a candy store robbing child,
Some are to scared cause it's kinda wild,
But the ones that do,
Are the closest to me,
So it may sometimes get annoying,
And at times up can go my middle finger,
But I think of the past in it I Linger,
Of anything you've done after me,
I start to realize maybe I try to hard to feel unique,
And wearing things that are way under chic,
Just to stay away from the crowd,
But I cry like rain from a cloud,
Because I'm learning that I live in a world of my own pity and greed.