I found the bag of Pixy Stix
I'd once so carefully picked.
I remembered the anxiety
From when you bought it for me.
I knew it would cost too much
So I used indecisiveness as my crutch.
You must've wondered who made me question my worth.
Who made me think $1.69 was something I didn't deserve.

Nature or nurture or lack there of both, I'm not quite aware of each.
I know that I'm ugly, I know that I'm fat, I know that I lack with my speech.

Growing a personality or finding myself was always an unthinkable feat.
Overly medicated, no stable family, crying myself to sleep.

I've always known to ask for permission before going out at night.
Or forming opinions or liking a song or even turning on the light.

I know I can sing, or at least carry a tune I know I can follow a song.
Though taking it further or picking a song was never allowed in my head long.

I don't know my likes or my hobbies or skills that I haven't been told to do.
I don't know what I can do, don't know what I can't do I don't know what want to.

Now that I'm older with a home and sleeping with the woman I love.
I'm of your reach and I'm trying to speak, and never holding my tongue.
I don't have to ask, I don't have to fear, I don't have to only survive.

Although every day and with every move, I look to find the will to stay alive.
I've never believed in myself for a minute, I've never been able to try
I know I'm to hate who ever I am but I haven't even met them yet.