The perfect someone does exist
it's our standards that are flawed

I was raised to keep quiet
and let life pass me by.
No one ever told me
It was okay to fight.
No one ever told me
They had faith in me.
I was raised to keep quiet
and life has passed me by.

Hindsight's the sister of regret
"What ifs" tease attempts to forget.
Random objects mirror moments of reflection
Dejection's the brother of rejection.

Sometimes,
I think about how
soft
my hair is
and about how relatively
small
my waist is,
and I'm okay
with myself...

plucks            all                 her

He                                         privacy

She                              moans
merrily