Slowly but surely all these years.
These past four years,
Innocence to Ignorance,
Ignorance to Experience.
When I just wasting the clock away,
Told my self to take advantage,
Each day might be stolen away,
Just like that.
I'm right here.
And I became who I am,
Right here,
In this Pleasantville, picket fence.
In these high school halls, where I built up a barricade,
As the headphones echoing away.
They say we never really change,
Just become more,
Of who,
Of what we are.
Cynical,
Cheerful,
Introverted, Extroverted.
That little girl who suck bomb pops,
Who now doesn't want to come home at all.
That little girl who sit alone read, who sit alone and imagine a life worth something.
Against the grain,
Now that little girl knows this life is hers for the making.
Got these problems, like these drawings echoing down the halls.
Down these halls,
Halls of my life.
Got problems like tattoos blatant on my chest,
People ask me 'bout em,
And I say you ain't see nothing yet.
Because this is me,
This is me.
((^okay I sorta ripped off that last line from One Republic's Lift Me Up
I wear my issues like tattoos across my chest
And people notice I tell them you ain't seen nothing yet
Brother lift me
^I just really liked the imagery^))
YOU ARE READING
Symptoms
PoetryPoetry. Love. Happiness. Sadness. Depression. Guilt. Regret. Struggle and Confliction. We may all be breathing, we may all have our hearts beating. But these are our vital signs. These are symptoms that prove we're alive.
