We spend so much of our lives dreaming of other planets

That we seem to forget we live on one ourselves.

We shrug off the idea of otherworldly beings,

But are lonely at the concept of solitude.

We are disappointed at the colors we see,

But become angry when it’s black and white.

We give little thought to how we affect others,

Yet it’s unfair when we don’t get a chance.

We spend so much of our lives contemplating a lie,

That we skip right over the truth.

Everyone is hurtful and callous and cruel,

But maybe the problem is you.