Dear Me,

It's been a while.

A lot has changed.

You have, mostly.

You still smile when someone's watching,

You still sing like no one's listening,

You still love like... well... it's different now.

She's still right next to you, and you wake up every day next to her.

But it's different now.

You've lived your life in an endless sea of chaos.

Never knowing what pain tomorrow brings.

She soothed that pain for so long.

You've lived your life always in service of others.

She showed you that it's okay to be selfish.

You've lived your life with walls that protect you from the pain.

She showed you that it's okay to hurt.

You've lived your life with anguish and sorrow as side-effects of a past you couldn't control.

She showed you that it's not your fault.

-

You thought everything was good.

You thought everything was perfect.

But when you finally allowed your walls to come down,

New emotions flooded your mind.

The chaotic sea was no longer, instead a beautiful corral reef.

Like you always were.

You were scared of these new feelings.

The magnificence of your true self blinding.

You were scared of becoming something that she wouldn't like.

You were scared of becoming something that she would leave.

You were scared that by becoming your truest self it would cause everything to change.

She showed you that you were wrong.

She showed you that you are beautiful

She showed you that you are strong.

She showed you that no matter what, she loves you.

Because she knows that no matter what, you love her too.

-

Your thing isn't my thing, but your thing is okay too.

Be true.

Be you.

Love freely.

Love boldly.

Love.

i am a mirror, fragile

glass breaks and shatters across the lonely

sky i look up to, darkening my soul

further, i fall into my own

i am a mirror

fragile glass breaks and shatters across the lonely sky i look up to

darkening my soul further

i fall into my own

i am a mirror.

my reflection is not who i am, i am conscious of what i see, but i know it is not me.

i am not a mirror.

Ceiling tile and bleach, a momentary nostalgia

What once was lost cannot be taken back

The sweet summer smell of home, a hell on earth

crying tears of joy and pain

both necessary in a world of evil

yet what do we do with that pain

a choice lies ahead

a sweet sweet day it is

decisions become face to face

between a rock and a hard place.

people often tell me that there's nothing i can't do
but more often times than not it really isn't true

i have no special talents,
i'm a nobody unlike you

you're special to somebody,
and that will pull you through

so don't say that you're a nobody,
because nobody knows you

don't tell yourself you're alone,
because i'll be here too

when you succeed- i will stay,
just a nobody,
so you can be somebody.

and then one day
i'll be happy too.

so there i was a cool wind breeze still here
little to no end no hate inside me
the rustling leaves disturbed by a deer
how tranquil this canvas of joyful glee
i cannot express in words my shocked heart
as a stabbing wound i begin to bleed
differing no more to them tell apart
so brethren fallen shed their empty creed
a still image of a bound soulless husk
from afar only bones tell my story
as the dawn wanes into the creeping dusk
so does the golden age of my sound glory
there is no more reason for me to stay
the winter shall come as the dawn calls day

taking a backseat to my own life,

white seats black tires

eyes gray from the light,

no emotions, no desire

a prisoner in stripes,

everything is in black and white.

Mr Rorschach says otherwise,

no more fine lines,

blobs of ink dotted along the path of righteousness,

the steel pen doth break the sword.

everything gray
everything grey

who's to say right or wrong,

everything in black and white.

what comes out of the shadows but a small idea that can't be contained

when all is said and done there is nothing but dust and debris

a small pile of rubble shifts as a phoenix of rebirth rises
shot down time and time again
by poachers who want the ashes of the phoenix

as the man picked up his wilted daughter from the ground he cried
the phoenix was no longer

a new dawn sets the stage
a new age sets upon this day

it sings the songs of a melancholy metronome and no one knows yet
because the song hasn't even started

when will they stop listening to the sirens song, until their ears bleed

nothing right has ever been so wrong
and yet we keep singing
and we keep singing

because that's all we can do
to prove to ourselves we still have a voice.

the difference between a good life and a great life is the understanding that it is all meaningless,

life cannot have a meaning because it was not created with meaning or purpose,

even with the God that many believe in, what purpose do you think an all powerful being has to create lesser beings who worship him?

There is no purpose or order to the universe, and yet we still grasp those thinly veiled straws as if there were some hidden thread that connected them all, and when we pull all we get are nothing but empty lives and hollowed shells of happiness that we thought we were.

but when we look at these straws and back up we begin to realize we were picking straws from a hay bale, of which there are many surrounding us

We can either decide to keep picking straws from the infinite hay bales of the universe, or sit down on the soft green grass and realize,

that its all going to be okay because no one told you to pick straws from hay bales, no one told you to sit on the grass, no one told you not to.

and that's okay, because you are your own person, and the universe created without meaning or purpose cannot tell you otherwise, just as it cannot tell you what meaning or purpose you hold.

Amen.

a perfect life, a happy wife, and nothing could be wrong

can you separate someone from their past actions?

a single man,

a single time,

a time when there was no one else,

to run or hide from where we stand,

so we run and hide from the bullies.

but no more will we run and hide.

no more.

years of pain and anguish,

torture and rage,

silently waiting.

a perfect life, a happy wife, and everything went wrong.

all gone in an instant.

all gone.

can you separate a man from their past actions?

you would have done the same,

don't pretend like you're better than me

i finally got my revenge.

it's justified

he made me hurt

now i hurt him

i'm not the bully.

i'm not the bad guy.

he is.

he always was.

since day 1.

until now.

no, he still is.

so that's it.

blood on your hands and on the walls, you look up at the screaming face of your tormentor, tormented.

this is what you wanted.

no it's not.

yes it is.

no. it wasn't.

it's what you get. it's what he deserved.
no. it's what you deserve.

all these years you're still the weak one, still the feeble one, still the one in pain. why can't he just understand it?

walking up to his anguished face, he looks up and utters "why"

as if you knew any reason besides the hurt and pain.

i loved you, you think to yourself.

i loved you and you hurt me every day.

because you never loved me back.

and that's that.

the end.

for all of us.

because there is no end to the cycle of violence until those who live by the sword then die by it.

it's justified.

but can you separate a man from his current life?
can you separate a man from his past actions?
can you separate a man for what he will be instead of what he is?

some still believe you can't.

but what life is there without change.

ashes to ashes, dust to dust, we all fall down.

because there is no winner in this game.

we all lose in the end.

outside in the dark stands a lonely figure

he stalks and he waits, as he slowly withers

beneath his head lies no heart

what can we do to tell him apart?

the door bursts open and in he walks,

he withers, and waits, and slowly stalks.

as he goes up to find his prey,

she looks out to the night as if to say

scarecrow make him go away.

the tale of a hero vanquishing evil,
slaying the monsters around him,
defeating all his opponents.
the tale of a hero conquering his enemies

but what does it mean to be a hero?
how many lives must you save to be a hero?

100? 1000?

No, of course not.

It's only one.

You only need to save one life to be a hero,
and it's okay if that one life is yours.

the bells ring from within my head
nothing else to be heard but the conscious banging of the door

there is no escape, i thought to myself as i rested my head against my own reflection
shifting and warping between the realities that could have been

a doctor, a scientist, a leader, a father.

and when i look up at my reflection the only thing that stares back at me is me.

everyone surrounds me wanting to become part of me by telling me who i should become.

no one surrounds me supporting me to become part of the solution, instead of trying to fix my problems, they try to make me the factor.

the common denominator.

i looked at my own hand and back at the mirror and i screamed silently.

this is my life.

i control it.

and i puncture the skin that everyone wanted to steal.

then- and only then,

am i freed

why can't you ever love me like she can.
why can't you ever appreciate me like she can.
why can't you just be satisfied with me like she can.

why do you always criticize me.
why do you always ridicule me.
why are you so insistent that i'm wrong.

she doesn't tell me i'm wrong.
she doesn't make me feel ashamed.
she doesn't make me feel guilty.

she loves me.
so why can't you?

and the mirror just cries and says
why can't I?

the boy looks up at his mother expectantly,
questioning his own role in the universe.

mother, he quietly asks, why did we come here?
she looks over at the small flower and smiles
because we want to say goodbye, she whispers

the boy does not hear this.
the boy does not know.
the boy only knows what is in front of him.

A flower and the grass.
The boy looks past and sees more flowers, and more grass.

the mother begins to weep.
the boy feels he is going to sleep.

the boy. the mother. the father.

and yet. the boy doesnt understand.

his father is dead, and his father before him is dead.
his mother is dead, and his mother before him is dead.

and he looks up at his weeping mother and realizes, she is smiling.
she looks down at him and he asks his mother, why are we here?

and the mother smiles and says once more

to say goodbye.

and the boy wakes up

What are you doing here? He gasped for air.

you should know. he gasped for air.

How did I get here? He gasped for air.

you should remember. he gasped for air.

You're not right. He gasped for air.

she deserves it. he gasped for air.

Stop it. He gasped for air.

i can't. he gasped for air.

You can.

she gasped for air.

you look pretty nice today
she said that there was a difference between a hero and a savior
but she never knew that i could be neither to her
i was but a mere fragment of a whole broken glass and at the same time she wanted to use me as a mirror to project her own image of who she was.

but at the same time i couldnt tell her no.

this is her story.

the boy drifts to sleep in hopes of a better tomorrow
the dreams he dreams
the stories he knows
the tales he weaves

comforting how he can sleep
comforting how he can dream
comforting how he can know

his mother knows not what else she can do but let him dream
let him sleep

she cannot let him know.

the woman cries tears of sorrow, yet triumph.

she cries the tears she sheds aren't hers to have but his.

she enters the room every night.

she looks up at the stars every night.

knowing he is asleep.

its okay she says to herself

Its okay says the stars

its okay says her heart

Its okay says the stars

its okay.

her child is dead.

but not to her.

her child is dead.

but not to the stars.

to them he is merely sleeping.

for an eternity.

immortalized in the stars.

taken away.

by the stars.

led on a chariot to the stars.

and yet she sees him there.
sleeping among the stars.

his dreams. to be among the stars.

and yet his grasp, never able to wrap around her pointing finger.

she cries the tears she sheds aren't hers to have but his.

she cries because she loved and was loved and has loved and yet

what pain is there without love, what love is there without pain.

her husband walks in and lays a hand on her shoulder,
and he cries.

he cries because he wasn't able to save her from the stars.

the reaching hand can only grasp what is in front of them,
never ahead.

and so he cries.

for now she sleeps in the stars.

she cries the tears she sheds aren't hers to have but His...

the smile fades from the man's face as he feels his own demise approaching the present but he looks behind him and sees nothing he looks in front of him and sees nothing but there has to be something hes worried afraid and scared all at the same time but cant seem to remind himself the reason why hes here its simple i know it is he knows it is youre here because you deserve this youre here because you were wrong youre here because its over theres nothing left for you theres nothing here its too late

its too late.

but the light at the end of the tunnel doesn't signify the end of the tracks.

it shows us the way to a new beginning.
new light.
new hope.

i love you.

the restless void whispers back
i know.

and the man opens his eyes, for the last time.
he looks up at his family, his wife, his children, his parents, his mentors, his lovers, his believers, his fans, his life.

and the man closes his eyes, for the first time.
sleep says the void.

sleep says the man.

awake you shall be for the first time in your life,
for the light at the end of the tunnel doesn't signify the end.

merely a new beginning.

so many things we take for granted
so many things that we use every day

coat hangars
socks
shoe soles

so many things we need

pain killers
eye glasses
usb drives

so many things...

love
affection
compassion

and yet, we lose these things so often.

Are you content?

Is this what you want?

Sure it is.

You say that you're satisfied

But I look in your eyes,

And I know you yearn for more.

If only I was enough for you.

happy days and happy thoughts,
what a time to be alive,
to swim to play to jump
and to say i love you all the while.

cant you see, that its you and me,
against the world tonight,
but no matter where i look, or hide,
i know youll be by my side.

oh happy days oh happy days,
wishing for this all to stay,
in rain or shine, wet or dry,
i know we have our troubles and,
im sorry that i make you cry,

i loved you then, i love you now,
so everythings going to be alright.

Come lay here with me.
Under the shade of the sycamore tree.
Always and forever, shall we be free.
Under no restraint from them.

The way that the clouds shine from above,
as if they had not enough,
rain to hold onto and save for the day,
when the ground becomes thirsty tomorrow.

So sing, I say, unto you,
Sing for the life that you lead.
It matter not, what you do with yourself,
as long as you can say that you lived.

Come and stay with me here,
Over the river's treacherous fears,
Always and forever, shall we be free,
A bridge gaps both of our souls.

So sing, I say, sing for you.
Not for anyone else,
to tell you what to do.

For this road that you lead,
and this life you decide,
is only created.
By your soul inside.

Tears fall,
as heaven cries,
Tears fall,
as i crawl through these trials,

at times i feel worthless,
a senseless redemption.

the temptation of this sensation,
creation from contamination,
and there is no concern for sanitation,
until those who accuse, are accused,
powers abused.

witches.
excuses used.

through this futile feud.

and its hopeless.

i walk across the tight rope,
not looking down as i sway,
for i know,
that the show will end,
if i ever look away,

i can see my goal,
its clear to me,
that it's no different.
than those who keep quiet,
and those who are vociferate.

because in the end we are all walking this tight rope.
hoping every day we don't fall,

or maybe you're someone who doesn't want to stay,
who want's to sway,
every day,
you carry this burden

walking across the tight rope.

you carry it all on the weight of your shoulders and you feel your legs about to break from underneath you.

but you're still here.
you stayed.

shouldn't that count for something?
anything at all?

keep walking this tight rope.
trust me, it's better than the fall.

because if you fell from the tight rope,
than those around you would sway,
as the ropes balance began to displace,
since you've fallen away.

there's a balance.

just keep walking the tight rope.
and continue walking the slippery *****.

Because it's not how fast you get there that makes you special.
It's how many people you can amaze with your talent.
And if you can't walk tight ropes then try juggling.
It's okay if you find yourself struggling.

Tight ropes aren't easy.
Neither is living life.

But we keep going despite,
always thinking twice.

So keep walking the tight rope, do it for me friend.
And one day you'll see it, you'll make it to end.

The words we share are not of those,
That we consider love.
For what can we see, with this prose,
is not that high above.

As to such, as you may say,
Sadness bears no lie.
For what it can, is try to sway.
The way in which we die.

So look not, on other things.
For the bluebird sings.
As they fly into the sky,
Not knowing anything.

The tears we weep, was it worth it all?
When spring turns into fall.
The flowers bloom, then wither away.
But we do not.
We choose to stay.

And stand up to those feelings.
Those we find appealing.
Joy. Pleasure. Love. Hate. Sadness. Pain. Pain.

and we don't move.
We choose to stay.
Never moving for anyone.
Again.

A dark shadow cast above the dimly lit sky.
Surrounded in darkness here we lie.
Hand in hand, only feet apart.
We know each other, We know our hearts.
As we lay here crying,
Tears sustaining life to the ground.
I make not a word, nor even a sound.
For why must we speak, when our pain says it all,
For we may be on the ground, but there are many to fall,
As we lay here dying,
At least we know such,
That our pain isn't fake, we know that as much.

So come and cry, and lie with me.
For your pain is ours, and that's what you'll see.

Severed limbs dont go far,
for one cannot walk without two feet,
As one can carry on with one arm,
And never let go to defeat,

However, humanity continues on,
A limp, leppar unable to leap beyond it's reach,
Like a pitiful animal, waiting to be taken down,

Yet humanity reaches.
And God reaches back.

What is deja vu?
It's the feeling of already having experienced the present situation,
A tedious familiarity,
It's interesting to think about,
How many times do we feel this in our lives?
Now what is heart break?
How many times do we feel this in our lives?
It's interesting to think about,
A tedious familiarity,

Oh. Deja Vu.

Creativity
It does not come from the mind
But from heart and soul

I want to be happy.
I really do.
I try to do the things that make me happy.
I eat my favorite foods.
I visit my favorite places.
I talk to my favorite friends.
I even try to meet new strangers.
I drink sometimes, but its not a problem.
I just want to be happy.
I put on a smile and I don't know why.
I don't feel anything.

I never feel anything.

I feel cold.
I feel numb.
I feel alone.

I am cold.
I am numb.
I am alone.

I look around and see a circle.
I see a small circle around me and the rest of the world.
I look around at the rest of the world and see...
I see blank faces.
I see smiles of empty sorrow.
I see laughter of hollow bones.

I see pain.
I see suffering.
I see hurt.

I'm blind to joy.
I'm blind to love.
I'm blind to happiness.

I'm blind to life.

I want to be heard.
I want to be freed.
I want to be. Loved.

I must be heard.
I must be freed.
I must be loved.

I have to be...
I wonder why else would I be here.

I wonder who would put me in this world to be nothing.

I wonder how I can love again.

I wonder where do I go from here.


I stare at the blank wall in front of me.
I picture a face of white.
I see the shapes shift and warp in and out of my perception.
I don't feel happy.
I don't feel.

I can't help but wonder...

I hear a knock at the door.
--
There was a sound.
There was a knock.

There was a girl.
There was shock.

There was a spark.
There was a park.
There was a dog.
There was a jog.

There she sat.
There I stayed.
There we kissed.
There I prayed.
There I swore, to always love.

There was the door.
There was the bed.
There was me in my head.
There was confusion.
There was suspicion.

There was her hand.

That made it all go away.
--
Looking back on it now.
I can still feel her warmth.

I loved her.
I really did.

She made me feel alive.
She made me feel again.

But I couldn't get rid of it.
The feeling.
Of nothing.
Of empty.
Of void.

Of sorrow.

I tried to make it better.
I tried to say I love you more.
I tried to be happy.

But I just couldn't.

I don't know what's wrong with me.
I didn't know.
I swear I didn't know.

There was... a light.
There was a... fight.
There... was.

I swear there was.

I want to believe I loved her.

I want to believe she meant something to me.

But I can't.

I can't lie to myself.
I have never felt, never will feel.
Again.

I loved her.
I loved her so much that I had to be with her forever.

It didn't matter how.
It didn't matter that the rent was due.
It didn't matter that we would be kicked out.
It didn't matter that I wasn't eating.
It didn't matter that she wasn't happy.

It only mattered that she was with me.
It only mattered that she stayed.

But don't worry.
She won't ever leave.
Again.

I want to be happy.
I really do.
I try to do the things that make me happy.
I eat my favorite foods.
I visit my favorite places.
I talk to my favorite freinds.
I even try to meet new strangers.
I even try to meet new strangers.
I just want to be happy.



I just want. To be happy is to die.

I love you.

Now you can stay here forever,
No matter how, No matter why.

You'll always be beatiful to me.

Dead or not.

The songs we sing are all made of sorrow.
The light we shine, will always have a shadow.

Even though, I walk through this world.
I know that I won't find love, don't you see.
For how can I be the one for you.
When I can't even be the one for me.

The night goes on, whether we sleep.
There doesn't seem to be any remedy,
To this hurt that you've got me feelin,
I don't know what, but I need some healin,
in my heart there seems to be a hole, where there wasn't one before.

Where there wasn't one before.

For the sings we sing are all made of sorrow,
And light we shine, always cast a shadow,

Through the valley of death.
Through the mountains of life.
Through the walks of the water.

There's only one truth tonight.

Only one thing can never be untrue.

And that's because I love you.

She looked at me and I held her hand.
As we lay there by the ocean sand.
Told her I'd love her for eternity.
My love could fill up the ocean and the sea.
I'd always strive to forever keep her with me.

Until the waves came and swept her away.

I'm taking a backseat, to the rhapsody, ridiculous travesty,
Can't even think about how far I go without gravity, this tragedy.

I wake up every morning, and I'm doing nothing but mourning.
Over the lost souls, empty treasured bottles, drifting at sea, but you can't find it in yourself, to ever forgive me.
So I wake up and do the same thing, every way, every day, no way to sway the hay, needle in a haystack, thumb tack, remindin us that we ain't ever gonna find ourselves.

So we remind ourselves, that our lives aren't on the shelves,
We delve, yet we never dive, try to survive, in this crazy time,
And I.
Don't know what to tell you when your on the ground and cry and want to die.
So the night's light, not bright, can't see at this height, the fright, and might of the weight of the world. This never endin swirl of emotion, commotion never gonna keep at this notion that I can be somebody that I want to be.

Can't you see.

That this life ain't something to scoff at. When you take off the top hat and jacket, you're all just part of us this noise and racket, won't stop.

Til you make it to the top, and sing that you're the king, sittin on you're throne, you don't know how the bare bone of your work and hone,
those skills you get from regret and set the standard, so bet on it.
That you can be honest.

And it's honestly stupid.

There once was a boy,
who loved to play with others,
but then they took him.

When I was little I was afraid of needles.
The skinny shiny end, like the backs of beetles.
Mom holding my hand tight as I stood there. Feeble.
Telling me I was one of the bravest people.
She ever met.

Afterwards, I'd cry and lay there fetal.
She would tell me it was to prevent measles.
To stop me from looking like a red polka-dotted easel.
But I always told myself, they were evil.

And now, where am I?
The needle's no longer an enemy but an ally.
As I feel the cold metal devil,
and revel in this bed and dishevel,
and elevate to feel my fate slipping,
I told myself I was on a higher level.

So that I could ignore the fact,
that I made a blood pact,
With the wrong pack,
of crack,
trying to find my sanity, is like a needle in a haystack,
maybe I need a life jacket,
to save me from drowning myself.
The white walls, and black shelves,
All stare at me like I'm deaf.
But I can hear.
I can hear just fine,
and find the time,
this time,
ill quit.
I swear it.

When I was little I was afraid of needles.
The skinny shiny end, like the backs of beetles.
And now, I'm staring into a mirror, and choking myself.
Trying to tell myself.

To get rid of this evil.

In the world to describe how much I love you.

ti amo

te amo
o
Anh yêu em
I love you

איך האב דיר ליב
o
я тебе люблю

There aren't enough languages either.

The sensation of creation leads to revelation of revolting refuge,
rhetoric of retaliating reverse recklessness, little did we know it wasn't us to blame.

So the constant reminder of fame smacks the face of each race, as if there is nothing they can't do wrong.
when their on their toes, and their crimes on the nose, of each and every single song.
The continuous calamity of this adversity revels in the rebels of diversity.
And we keep trying, and the victims keep crying, because there's nothing they can do about it.

The moment in which we decide in ourselves to limit the blame and fame and end our self-made hell, an endless ringing bell,
a constant constant constant reminder that we. hate ourselves.

to the best of our ability we try to limit our reality as if closing our eyes, wont keep it 20/20.
And we keep ignoring it. And we keep ignoring and ignoring until one day in the light of morning we hear the mourning,
and the pigs keep snoring.

Because it's not their problem.
Its ours.

So we tire endlessly for hours, rinse repeat, blood draining the showers, as we try to fight the powers that shackle us.
And hold us. To limit ourselves that we can't be better than the old us. That we're better off here.
To disappear as if part of a background, a silent sound, a ghost hound, there is nothing left for me.

To do.

Because how can you try to fight the power, when the power you fight is in you.
You ignore the things going on, and yet you feel they are wrong.
So why don't you do something about it.

it's because you don't want to be the person who does something about it.
but instead see the person who does something about it.

and you continue every day wishing you had the strength to take on the masses, of endless, hate.
and let the course run of fate, and debate the state of each state, at this point can't collaborate to slate this... this hate.

they think we all need to be locked away, but don't they see, that's what we've always been.

Contained.

I walk down the dirt road.
Skies above, and ground below.
The heavens cry, for I shall not.
What has already gone, what I have forgot.

I see the trees.
The roses too.

I walk down the dirt road.
Skies above, and ground below.
The heavens shout, for I shall stop.
What has already gone, what I have forgot.

I see the trees.
The roses too.

I walk down the path.
It all repeats.
Nothing changes.
I cant sleep.
Help me.
Help me please.
Im stuck.
In my own reality.

I cant escape.
My mind ablaze.
Fire, fire.
It's all a haze.
But you cant hear me.
You cant see.
You cant peak into my reality.

It all started
That fateful day.
When you wanted to run.
Outside and play.
I told you no.
It's too cold outside.
But you yelled, you screamed, and cried.

So reluctant I did.
I followed through.
From the cold, hard, rain. I followed you.

On the dirt road, where no strangers pass.
I heard it loud.
I saw it fast.
The two sets of lights.
Yet not on me,
Trained... on you.

I screamed.
I yelled.
I ran.
I pushed.
I fell.
Now I lay here on these white sheets.
The machine whirring.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I can never know.
I can never live.
My eyes stare blankly.
Unresponsive.

Its okay, because you're still here.
You can run, play, and it feels surreal.
My job is done,
My own reality.
This obstacle I can never overcome.

And still

I walk down the dirt road,
Skies above, and ground below,
The heavens cry, and I have yet.
For I have seen what has gone, and I will never forget.

Trying to find a purpose in life
Not knowing which way is left or right
Trying to find a way to survive
Wanting to figure out when is the right time
Just tell me already when can I go
I want to be loved and a place to call home
I don't wanna be some kind of homeless wreck
Living on nothing but change and scrap
But, says a voice, you musn't give up
You have to keep your head above
You must keep on through this suffering
Because no one has given you harboring
Doesn't make an excuse for defeat
Keep your chin up and stay on your feet
I wondered who that voice could be
Saying these soothing things with ease
I looked around with a realization
That what I heard was a sensation
I didn't know how to cope
With this thing... called Hope.