The world was not made for those like me, 

Not for the noticers, the dwellers, or the feelers, 

But for the shallow and the petty, 

The liars, fakers, and the stealers. 

So I take the broken hopes of change, 

And turn them into spears, 

For no caring lives here anymore, 

No connections and no fears. 

Only glass as hard as diamonds, 

Steel where once was love, 

Disdain for the world of users, 

Claiming unreal favor from above. 

Only a lingering throb of sadness lingers, 

And, yes, sometimes it stings, 

But it reminds me ne’er to trust the world, 

Or those who only seek out things. 

The world is dark, though the sun may shine,

Dimmed by what lives in human heart, 

And it cannot be saved as the worst prevail, 

Selfishness be their black art.