In a mental world
where all I need is to
be a man,

I’m told to be this woman.

Shave your legs,
make your voice high,
wear the flower perfume,

not the men’s cologne.

Let your hair grow out,
keep your name,
don’t build your muscles.

You don’t look right.

You’re my daughter,
not my son.
You will not be an “other,”

you shouldn’t be masculine.

It’s a reminder
of the world we live in;
one where you can be yourself

if you fall into the right box.

The right clothes,
the right hair,
the right materials,

the right parts.

Let me out;
get this monster released
so I can be myself

a self-made man to be.

A self-made man
without a care in the world.
A self-made man

wanting to be known.

He writes boy on his leg
Etching the letters the world won't understand
Wishing the felt tip pen could
Break the gravestones on his chest
And fill the valley between his legs

He writes boy on his leg
It's a word kept secret in fear
He's a mustang learning his legs
And the world is a pack of vicious wolves
They don't know what to call him
Only he does

He writes boy on his leg
Takes a picture and sends it to the one he knows understands
The flash against his pale skin stark and bright
Like sleepy eyes against fresh snow

He writes boy on his skin
Because he can't write it anywhere else

You have the soul of a lion
Buried deep beneath lessons
Of inferiority and knowing your place
They've told you where you belong
How you're meant to be
But they're wrong

Deep inside you is a predator
Itching for you to see
See the fire in your eyes
Or feel the sharpness of your teeth and tongue
You may not have the mane you want
But you have a mane of fire
Burning from your soul
Pushing free from your skin

No man can stand a lion
You are more powerful than your body
More important than their words
You're the king of the Savannah
And the king of your heart
All you need to do
Is find your roar

I thought we were going to be best friends
For a really, really long time.
I thought that you would never leave
Especially without a warning.
And now it seems that you don’t want me
Anymore.
You don’t feel the need for me
Anymore.
I feel like a part of me has been
Ripped apart.
Apart from my body.
My heart.
I don’t know what I did
But I’m sorry.
Please come back to me.
I can’t seem to stop crying.

Sometimes I feel sick and tired.
It usually goes away after a day.
But lately I've felt worse.
I've felt nauseated.
I've felt like crying.
And all for what?

I thought it was just a depressive episode.
I thought I would feel better after a few hours of crying.
But I just feel worse.
I feel more sick and tired.
The feeling that I will throw up anytime won't go away.
Why do I feel this way?

I think it's because I feel so lonely.
I feel isolated from the world around me.
Yeah, I hang out with friends a lot.
But I never really feel there.
It's just so exhausting.
Why is this happening?

I've always wanted a pet.
To help me feel comforted.
And make me stop feeling lonely.
But sadly I can't have one.
And I will be alone for what feels like forever.
Why is the world so cruel?

My isolation follows me.
It's there when I wake up.
It's there when I'm with other people.
It's even there to tuck me in at night.
I still feel queasy.
Why is it so involved in my life?

Why am I asking so many questions?
Why is the light of the screen making my nausea worse?
Why can't I stop crying?
Why can't I think clearly?
Why do I feel so lonely?
Why?

When I told the doctor,
About how the voices in my head
Tell me to **** myself,
And how I have anxiety attacks over the simplest of things,
And how it seems that I’m constantly sad.
He said,
“Oh here. Take this.”
And so I did.
But it didn’t help.
So I stopped taking it.
The next doctor gave me a new medication.
And this one seemed to make everything worse.
So I stopped taking it too.
The next doctor told me to go to therapy,
Because that’s what people like me need.
So I did.
And she told me that I was making it all up.
That it was all in my head.
And that If I kept telling these lies that I would be put in the hospital like the rest of the crazies.
If doctors are supposed to help you,
Then why did they only seem to make me worse?
If doctors are supposed to fix the problems,
Then why did they only give me more problems to add to my list?
If doctors are supposed to understand,
Then why did they call me crazy?

Just an average day in my average life
no cause at all for worry or strife.
But then it hits out of the blue.
This terrible feeling is nothing new...
So I sing the

Anxiety song
Anxiety song
Before its over something will go wrong...
In my anxiety song.

My hear beats fast and I can't get air.
I don't think straight. I'm so **** scared.
At about this point, I start to cry.
I really really wanna die.
But I sing

The anxiety song.
anxiety song.
A panic attack can feel so long.
Here's my anxiety song.

You want to have a good day,
but your brain is saying "no way".
Things are not ok .
Why can't it go away
goawaygoawaygoaway
goawaygoawayawayawayaway
[hyperventilates­] [gathers self]

It's the anxiety song
anxiety song.
I'm gonna finish it singin' strong.
It's my anxiety song.