You were a child
who didn't belong in one place or the other.
How could you respond to the taunts that still haunt your deep thoughts?
Between the father that hurt you
and the mother that gave you up
but what's important is that you didn't give up
on a life
yes you fought, you survived-
is what you had to learn how to do to learn what to do
in a strange new place
where no one knew your face or spoke your tongue
"Dumb loser. Dumb loser."
To that, there's no truth sir.
You were smarter than the lot of them-
How hard could it be when your mommy's name is TV?
and your closest friends and the people that taught you life's lessons
were just animations,
pixels on a screen,
That daddy really sucked. I know, trust me it's messed up.
That the man who gave you life wants no right part in it.
Love him. Hate him. Love him. Hate him.
Does that cycle ever end? In the end
He's only genetics.-
How pathetic this rhetoric must seem to someone who his whole life
was compared to a queen
and I dont mean royalty.
was all you needed from your parents but what you were
and it was apparent
that no one would ever understand you -
"you whore." It's a word you abhor and an issue
you find hard to ignore
because a girl is more than that
But it's a matter of fact,
that she'd be attacked for the exact same act
a man could reenact
with no backlash
So she lives with that social phobia
until she can find her own utopia that is risen from-
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
As you've watched bridges burn,
as you've run out of trust.
They promise to love you then they all disappear
or maybe it's not them, maybe it's fear
but either way you're alone with no way to atone for the things they've made
you think you've done wrong.
And all you're left with are the bad lyrics to a cliche love song.
Those stories don't belong to me.
But to those that otherwise could not speak
As humans we're told
we hold the right to free speech
but then they tell us don't preach,
don't cuss and don;t discuss issues amongst us
so our words become superfluous
millions of voices are being bought out
and the ones worth listening to
are being snuffed out
Without a doubt,
we are all broken, beautifully broken
beautifully flawed, our thoughts unspoken
our feelings still raw
and that's why I write
because maybe others can't fight
for their right
for their voices to be heard
but I hear their stories in words that are slurred and in
I write for the ones who can't.
Because somewhere there's someone who wants to
don their wings and shed their cages but they're told
that their words don't matter.
They're forced to live backstage
and its their lives that implant themselves onto my page
so that for a moment they might take center stage
that they may glisten brighter than any
in their very own Golden Age
and for a moment won't belong
as a slave to a cage.