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I sit, legs crossed, typing away
Doing homework, my hair uncombed
Listening to songs I don’t love but don’t hate
And I stare out the window and wonder, 
Is there something more than this?

And my fingers type away
In a never-ending game
It’s raining. I feel nothing
Writing bad poems in the dark, and I wonder, 
Is there more to me than this?

Procrastination, adrenaline, headphones, 
Cell phones, whiteboards, deodorant, 
Romance, hardback books, college, drama,
Movies, concerts, lectures, hormones,
And I wonder, 
Is there more to youth than this?

My thoughts are scattered, my eyes unfocused
My brain stretched in five directions
And I don’t know who to be 
Because we’re pebbles in a muddy stream
And in a world of distractions, 8 billion voices ask, 
Is there more to life than this?