In memory of all those broken children. Don't let them win! Win back your soul! Stand up! Fight!
PS: All you ******* could not **** me.*

That girl in the corner of the world
Shoring up the waste and the beauty of her soul
She died, but oh her corpse
I carry it some of the time

That girl that can't believe her own worth
That she's not utter **** or something worse
That she's human, has got a heart
and a body, and it needs to be loved.
The girl bullied anytime she speaks,
anytime she dares to merely be. In her ugly sweater and unsexy jeans,
tangled up hair, deadened stare,
her fear to breathe, for fear the air will choke her.
(It will)

She's dead. She had to die. Otherwise, I would have.
But that girl carries corpses and demons inside!
She smiles, so wide and bright
and gets high
on stupid compliments because she still thinks what she was told
or shown
or punched to accept!
The venom seeping deep in her veins
how to forget the dark in the middle of the day?
A goodbye when everybody has just arrived

She's dead. But I am not.
And now I flaunt my weirdness all along
and people love me
and most of all: I can love myself
and the pills they do help
but the path is carved by myself, I guess