I'm not the only kid who grew up this way soroued by people who use to say that ryme about stick and stones as if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called and we got called them all. We grew up believing noone would fall in love with us that we be lonely forever. We would never meet someone that made us feel like the sun was something they created in there toolshed.
So broken heart bled the blues as we tried to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing, Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone.
That a in grown life is something surgeons can cut away that there's no way for it to metastasize because it does.
She was eight years old first day of grade three when she got called ugly we both got move to the back of class so we would stop getting bombarded by spitballs. But the school halls where a battle ground we found ourselves outnumbered day after reached day. We use to stay inside for reassess because outsied was worse because outside we had to practice running away or learn to stay still like stautes giving no clue we where there. In grade five they taped a sign to the front of her deask saying ''Beware of dog'' to this day despite a loveing husband she doesn't think she's betifuel. Because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half her face kid's use to say ''She looks like a wrong answer someone tried to erase but couldn't quite get the job done.'' And they will never understand she's raising two kids who's defition of beauty begins with the word MUM because they see her heart before they see her skin because she's always been amazing.
He's a broken branch crafted onto a different family tree adopted not because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was three when he became a mixed drink one part of being left alone two parts tragedy. Started therapy in eigth grade had a personality made up of test and pills. Lived like the up hills where mountain's and the down hills where cliffs 4/5th suciadal a tidel wave of antidepressants And adolescent of being called popper one part because of pills 99 parts because of the cruelty. He tried to kill himself in grade 10 when a kid who could go home to mum and dad had the audacity to tell him get over it. As if depression is something that a remedy by any of the contains found in a first aid kit. To this day he is stick of TNT lit frome both ends could be described in detail like the sky bends and the moment before it falls and despite a army of friends who call him a inspiration. He remains a conversation piece frome people who can't understand that sometimes being drug-free is less to do with addiction but more to do with sanity. We weren't the only kid's who grew up this way. To this day kid's are still being called names like the classics hey stupid or hey spaz. Seems like every school has arsenal of names being updated every year. And if kid's breaks in a school and no-one chooses to hear do they make a sound or are they background noise of a soundtrack stuck on repeat when people say kids can be cruel. Every school is a big top circus tent and the pecking order went frome acrobats to liontamers frome clowns to carnies. All of these miles ahead of who we where freaks. Lobster clawed boy's and bered ladies. Oddities juggling depression and loneliness.
Playing solitary and spin the bottle trying to kiss the wonded parts of ourselves and heal but at night when everyone was sleeping we practiced our balancing act ya some of us fell. But I want to tell them that all of this is just debris. Leftover whenever we decided to smash all the things we use to be.
And if you cant see anything beautiful about yourself find a better mirror stare a little longer look a little closer. Because there's something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit! You built a cast around your broken heart and signed it yourself you signed. THEY WERE WRONG! Maybe because you didn't belong to a group or a click mabey they chose you last for basketball or everything. Mabey you use to bring bruises and broken teeth for showing tell but didn't say a word how could you say something when everyone around wants to bury you beneath it. You have to believe that they were wrong. They have to be wrong because why else would we still be here? We use to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We steam frome a root plated in the belief that we are not what we were called. We are not a stalled our car abound on some highway but if somehow we are don't worry we only walked to get gas. We are graduating class of we made it. Of the faded echoes of voices crying out names that will never hurt me. Of course they did. But our lives will always be a balancing act that has less to do with pain and more to do with beauty.
Disclaimer I do not own this Shane Koyczan does.
