put my pen to paper but the words don’t seem to come
And my life could soon be over, but the poem is left undone

It used to be so easy, with a world of inspiration
But with everything that’s happening, how can I make a sensation

I am but fourteen with a stereotype to fight
Surrounded by these hypocrites, convincing me they’re right

And if eternity arrived, I’d be the first in line
Ignoring all their rumours, proclaiming it’s my time

I know I’ve got the wit and intelligence don’t come cheap
But maybe my soft charm is only but skin deep

Now my legs are getting tired of walking through my mind
And if you were more like me, then we’d be two of a kind

Carry on your way now, while I keep searching for the solve
While the gunshots keep resounding and the earth starts to revolve