if I were to sing

If I were to sing
of all the good things 
in my life
i would sing of the smell of my mum's homemade soup
Warm and gentle, yet subtlety spicy 
and the way acrylic paint feels on my fingers
so smooth, tempting me to smudge something with color
how the moon sparkles when it's relfected in you eyes
a curious playful shine, that makes me want to ask you about everything 
if I were to sing of the woes of the world
i would sing about how so many 
feel worthless, or hopeless, or just like living equals pain
I've been there I know
but killing yourself, it isn't some funny joke
and depression is a serious thing
or maybe I'd tell you just how much death our race has inflicted
opon our planet 
and how many suffer every day
if I were to sing of my self
I don't know what I'd say
I'm imperfect 
and lonely 
I struggle 
and work my way through things
I feel sadness 
and joy 
and I live like a human
cause I am one
thats it, simple as pie
yet I'm so crazily complex 
there's oh so much more than what meets the eye.