October 25, 1998

Last night I cried myself to sleep again,

Thinking about my life.

Like I always do

when my family is full of strife.

I think about my empty past,

and my empty future.

Some of these memories will not last,

At least they are all pure.

My life is like a flower,

If blooms and no one knows

It's great power.

But still I wonder, is there something

out there for me?

Will I ever learn...

What I must be?

I grew up thinking

I wasn't as good as all them,

Now I find myself always thinking,

"Well, then again..."

My life is like a flower,

If blooms and no one knows

It's great power.

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