I write my name
My label, my identifier
My word, my definer
I write my name
And it looks wrong, outgrown
Do I have the power, the control
The grip
To change it

Get a grip
Stop slipping
State the facts
Stop tripping

You’re 17 and you’re young
You’re 17 and you have metal in your head
You’re 17 and you have metal taste
Stuck on your tongue
Dripping off when you talk
Forming the puddles in which you walk
Pooling in words that burn
They are a curse slipping through the smile
That reaches your eyes
Only because you painted it there

With brown eyes you can't make friends
With brown eyes you cried until you couldn’t
With brown eyes you smile like it’s free
You quit dancing
You quit schooling
You quit pretending
You started pretending

I am not the same as the infant born 17 years ago
I am not the same as the name that they gave me
I am not the same as the others that held my name
I am separate from that title
I am something new, beyond
Something true and someone gone

Scar after scar twinkles in the light
Hair after hair is torn out every night
What do you call a work in progress
Incomplete is not my name
I am not quite obsolete
To many I appear petite
To many I should just retreat
What a privilege to be given something to cling to that you never desired to own
No, rain is not the same as snow

A name is not a name
My name is not my name
It is a label I stole from fame
Nicole Kidman is not my role model
But her role was my model
My mother was her model on set
But this is a stage on which we are players
And I will not give a verse a name that is not of my own creation
I will not credit the broken, glue-coated, splinters of myself
To some foreign and separate person
No, not to someone else

To you I have given:
my heart,
my soul,
my passion,
my dreams and my desires,
my deepest thoughts,
my open arms,
my honesty and compassion,
but frankly dear
it would seem
that you were just waiting
for me to give up.

Grey
Just Grey
Black and white world
Black and white life
Black and white heart
Nothing special

Until...

You

Like color to a canvas you lit up
My world
My life
And my heart

Now because of you I have color
And with that color
Came hope

A hope that things could change
That things could be better
That this wasn't the end

That my fairy tale dream of life
Would no longer be fantasy

And it can't
It just can't be a fantasy any longer
Because of you

And I thank you for this spark
To light up my life
And to keep my dreams of love alive

Life is like a railroad.
A song that never ends.
Its given and its taken.
Life. It has no end.
People live from day to day.
Without a single clue.
Of what will happen in days end.
The mist beyond the blue.

Life's too short to not say what you mean;
but it's also long enough for your words to really sting.
Watch your thoughts when you're alone,
and your words when you're surrounded.
It's just fine to live up in the clouds,
so long your soul stays grounded.

Some things are given
Other things are earned with age

No Army,
Can Stop An Idea,

No Bullet,
Can Stop An Idea,

No One Can Stop An Idea,
Why, Why,

Because an idea is not a person,
it is not a thing that can be shot,
or burned,
or tortured.

No.
An Idea Is A Belief.
It Is a Catalyst.
It Is everything and nothing at all at once.

An idea can be created by one person,
but shared and given power by all.

Thus....

No Army
Can Stop An Idea.