Why is it

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Why is it
that when someone else asks
They receive.
But I still end up
with the short side of the stick.

Why is it
That when I feel something,
No one else is brave enough
To speak up.
And I'm always the odd one out.

Why is it
That love is always material
Always based upon first impressions
And no matter what someone says
Someone can always turn the thoughts around.

Why is it
That everyone questions everything.
No one can just go with the flow anymore.
It's always What
Or Who
Or how
Or when

Or maybe even

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