Why was I brought into the world so early?
Just two pounds, six ounces; why were all odds against me?
Out of all of the billions of people in the world,
what was I supposed to be?

Was I born for a purpose?
Or was it just a simple twist of fate?

So alone,
yet so dependent on others,
could I ever come into my own?

How many days were spent asking,
‘Is rain what happens when the clouds start to cry?’
‘Do roses know their thorns can hurt?’
and always asking why?

How many days were spent waiting,
for the tree lose their leaves?
and thinking,
‘What if pirates still roamed the seas?’

Why did the days of smiles, laughs, and giggles
have to fade away?
How come they transformed into walls around me,
all painted shades of gray?

Why was I being forced up a mountain,
When I was happy on the ground?
Was it too late to turn around?
Or even look back down?

Why did I keep walking?
Was I too afraid to face the crowd?
Why was every day such torture?
Why was I afraid to cry out loud?

For the first time,
I thought that I fit in,
Why did she have to take my life,
and give it her own spin?

Why did every thought start to revolve around her?
What she would do, what she would say?
Why did every tear shed start to go to my head?
Why did it take so long to learn to back away?

Why did every word she say,
Have to cut me like a knife?
Why did it never end?
And slowly take over my life?

Why did I listen to her words for so long?
Instead of the ones that tried to heal?
Why did all of the words you say,
eventually start to feel real?

Why did every glance in the mirror
suddenly have to become a brawl?
Why did every thought in my head
run my self-confidence into a wall?

Why did I blame myself for what I couldn’t control?
Why did I start to treat myself like dirt?
Why do thoughts become actions?
And why do actions have to hurt?

I’ve changed my city,
changed my school,
and step by step, I’ve changed my life,
so how are her words still so cruel?

Why am I still haunted?
Why can’t I let go?
Will her words ever fade?
Will she ever know?

How have her words have changed me,
but yet she doesn’t have a clue?
What if I have done the same?
What could my words eventually do?

Why did it take me so long to realize,
I have the potential to help someone through?
Is there an upside to everything?
Maybe it really is all your point of view?

They say that time is of the essence,
And since all of the memories have gone so fast,
Will we ever know the answers?
Or will the past forever be the past?