I used to dream
of being a great man
a heroic man
the kind that songs are sung of
stories are written of

The kind of man that leads people to victory
that sacrifices for the greater good
noble, honourable and courageous

But I realise now;
I am none of that - but;
I am a content man,
I am a happy man
In the end, I think I prefer to be happy
I think...

First thing, you are beautiful, You may not realize it,
Because I know I don't feel that way about myself
But so many people agree on how pretty you are
Second, I know you don't feel a reason for living
Well I can promise I don't have all the answers,no one does
But I know that God made a choice when He decided.
He decided you were amazing enough to bring into the world
Whether  you believe it or not, He loves you, and has a plan
Remember, at the end of a storm there is always a rainbow
Third, you are not trash. No one on this earth is
You are a human being made God's Image
And anything created in God's Image is never trash
Fourth, you are one of the most talented people I know
No one else can play any instrument like you can,
Fifth, you may not know the purpose of your life now,
But later maybe you'll figure it out, you can do anything
Because that's the thing with life, you always have a choice
And overall, everyone loves you. I'm serious.
And you may not realize it,
*When you smile, you can see everyone else smile too

To tell you the truth,
I'm the girl version of you

The way you speak your words
and how a smile masks your sad world

I feel the sadness in your eyes,
how they're connecting with mine

Our heart's damaged,
trust's the blame

We give and give
but never take

We want to surpass the pain
and feel the love again

We want to be happy,
away from em' tears

We want everything
to be fair
and us
to be happy

So there's a new kid in the classroom
and the other kids all stare
as he comes and sits right next to me
"Why's he sitting there?"
He's not your average schoolboy
he has the darkest stare
that threatens all who see it
thundering through his messed up hair.
He glares at all the others
as his choice they mock with glee
the pretty ones all clucking
as to why he would choose me.
But here he sits, unmoving
solid stone with stormy eyes
while I control my longing
for his hand upon my thigh.
He really is quite dreamy
in his own peculiar way
so I'm scribbling in my notebook
trying to find words to say.
Now he's staring at my notebook
I'm exposed, I want to die
as he reads these words I'm writing
and puts his hand upon my thigh!!!

daddy was a lot of woman typa man

mama was fast
a one night stand

drugs; they had in common
crack was in demand

heard he was crazy, so she ran

I fell from hell

wasn't given no hand

I got up anyway
*and tall I stand

How do you quiet the voices inside your head? They say such ugly things. At first I didn't believe them when they told me I was worthless. I gave them the cold shoulder when they said I was ugly. I scoffed at them when they told me I was weak. But I still hear them, and they still shout at me. And the more they insist, the more I believe the things they say. So how do I quiet the yelling that I can't control and the voices I can't escape?