Why do we cry over little things,
When we could spend our time smiling?
Why do we speak with harsh words,
When all it does is hurt us?
Why do we all look different,
When we are forced to dress the same?
Why are some people good at everything,
While others cannot find one positive trait?
Why are some strangers seen as pretty,
When beauty is in truly knowing the person?
Why was make-up created,
When all it does is let you hide?
Why are we here?
When we shall someday disappear?