Status: Starting out real slow.....
Whataya want from me
It messed me up, I need a second to breathe
I remember when I was younger, I would sit by the window in the old dusty room.
The sunlight would be shining through the cracks of the window blinds, luminating the room.
Sunlight fascinated me. It shone and broke through the darkness, radiating.
But in its presence, shadows emerged.
Shadows tainted the perfect picture.
Shadows were imperfections. I held onto that belief.
I like to imagine myself as a picture, a photograph.
The shadows in the photograph are my uncontrollable emotional state, my cursed personality, my awkward appearance.
I am a picture of imperfection.
Sometimes, I really wonder what people expect from me, this picture of imperfection
Is it right to be who I am? I am wounded right to the core, sore but silent.
Life has gone too fast. My days in school merely piling
The sunlight would be shining through the cracks of the window blinds, luminating the room.
Sunlight fascinated me. It shone and broke through the darkness, radiating.
But in its presence, shadows emerged.
Shadows tainted the perfect picture.
Shadows were imperfections. I held onto that belief.
I like to imagine myself as a picture, a photograph.
The shadows in the photograph are my uncontrollable emotional state, my cursed personality, my awkward appearance.
I am a picture of imperfection.
Sometimes, I really wonder what people expect from me, this picture of imperfection
Is it right to be who I am? I am wounded right to the core, sore but silent.
Life has gone too fast. My days in school merely piling