I still have hopes
I still have regrets
I have scars from guitars
And scratches from the frets
I still have dismantled pencil sharpeners
Sitting in my trash can
I still have trophies
From races I never ran
I still have the belt
I used to measure myself with
But perfect perfection
Might be a myth
I still have fears
I still have cares
I have a defective brain
And a need for repairs
I still have diary entries
From years long ago
I still have scars
That I will never show
I still have Valentine’s Day cards
I kept from second grade
And I could have told someone
But I was afraid
I still have thoughts
I still have autonomy
I have control
Over what I’m gonna be