i think that i will scream if i lose another tear
‘cause it seems my brain is leaking quite slowly out my ear.
and i’m certain nothing’s wrong, though i wouldn’t say it’s right,
see it’s dark inside my mind and i cannot reach the light.
i’m tripping on the laces of someone else’s shoes
and i know that i should, fall but i feel i must refuse.
i don’t want to be the girl staring vaguely at the ground,
hair covering her face and she never makes a sound.
see, i’ve been that girl before and she got on my last nerve.
she was racing towards a cliff and refused to slow or swerve.
i could swear that i am stronger now,
hell, i could swear ‘till sailors blush,
so you see you’ve got the wrong girl, i’m too brave to turn to dust.
i have lived in the reflection of a thousand sleepless days
and i cannot change direction to a spiraled down decay.
i have tried to get a jump-start, slammed my head against the floor,
and to free myself of typecast i’ll break every fucking door.
and i’m not sure who i’m fighting, though i’m afraid it’s only me,
but i’ve got to go on writing or i never will be free.
i’d stay trapped inside my mind with my tangents and my rants,
and i’d never leave my side so i’d never have a chance.
i will kick my little ass if that’s what i have to do
to find out if i’m tough enough to really follow through.
i’ll take myself out back and i will really set me straight,
‘cause i know i have to do this, i can’t leave it up to fate.
i will write a good next line, if it takes me several days.
and i’ll throw the biggest tantrum if i don’t get my way.
i will say that i can’t do it and then i’ll prove me wrong.
i won’t fold my hands politely ‘till the last blank page is gone.
and i will not be the nice one, not kind, demure and sweet.
if i stutter i will fight it, i will bite and kick and scream.
i’ll write high-class graffiti if that’s all i can achieve.
i’ll write anything i have to, to be the writer i can be.