What if my right was your wrong and
your wrong was my right? If we play pretend
words lost their meaning and these sentences
never began. What if you try to listen to my eyes
and feel what I shout, where making sense of my
life it's a comma where you stop move along but
without any doubt.  What if I take your happiness
and live it as my own, I know I've read this essay
but the pages keep going on. If you could realize
that I create my joy, the questions in your book
won't be handle like a toy. What if the lines you
write are backwards because that's all you know
yet one day you're forbidden to express your feelings
and thoughts. If you can't understand why you're
trying to be retrained, why can you tell me to be a
pencil when I've always been a pen?