They say that kid has got soul, every where that you go.

You say skank, but your the one with bruises on your neck.
Bruises from the past, some preparing for the future,
but most are from your past.
Rape, suicide attempts, and even the odd eating disorder or two,
broken hearts, stitched up and reopened again,
just to be put back together. But only by someone
willing to find the missing pieces.
To you this is normal, but to most, this is the farthest thing from
reality. Your afraid of an 'ordinary' life, its keeps you
cowering in the darkest corner barely visible to even your eyes.
Its funny how the best thing you can find on your body,
are bight marks. Nothing painful, but it brings in a unique beauty,
definitely nothing 'ordinary', and that's how you like it,
that's how this is supposed to be, how your supposed to be.
You say you want to be different, its what you most crave in life,
that and to be loved, which has long gone been met.
But despite your craving, you've still fallen in the crowd,
gotten lost among everyone, like an ant lost in an ant hill,
nothing more than ant, come and go, give and take.
Just waiting for your time to shine, for the sun to move
just an inch or two to your little bubble of amusement.
Tired of waiting, tired of cowering, well in a sort,
still refusing to be anything close to 'ordinary',
whatever the hell that is. Blond hair, blue eyes,
that perfect little figure, complete with a perfect loving family,
and definitely the perfect loving boyfriend, who's what?
Captain of the fucking football team?Fuck that, you'd
much rather be sitting here, eating a tub of ice cream,
with your perfect girlfriend, who just happens to live down the road.
Perfect eh? But in all reality, you need a wake up call,
need to get something done, something big,
something new, and all, in 100%, you.
Your gonna make it big girl, just you wait and see.
Soon the world will know your name, and in the end,
all the dreaming, waiting, and maybe even a teensy bit of the cowering
will have made it worth the while, worth the wait.
Just you wait girl.
My tears run down like razorblades,
And no, I'm not the one to blame.
It's you ' or is it me?
And all the words we never say,
Come out and now we're all ashamed.
And there's no sense in playing games,
When you've done all you can do.