I’d like to introduce myself,

I’m not full of beauty or of wealth.

I worry about the tiny things,

like falling books and diamond rings.

And inside the walls of my head

are echoes

jumbling.

 

The index in my brain shows me that I’m insane

for the things that I love.

The thoughts I hold within show I’m a giver and a friend

to the ones that I love.

 

I am what I am because of who I’ve been

and what I want to become.

This person is me and she will always be

because she’s the only one

who is me.

 

I am, I am, I am just another face in the crowd.

But I can tell you I am

capable of screaming out loud.

 

I’m more than words on a page,

and I’m more than notes to be sung.

I am passion. I am rage.

I am ready, where’s my stage?

I’m a new project, just begun.

I am me, the only one.

 

And every face in that crowd has a story so loud

that makes then so different

and every face has a life full of love, full of strife,

and I am not content

to say that outside appearance

can possibly be reference

to a humans whole soul

that there’s not a severance

between their words and what they feel

don’t say that their actions are really

whats hidden deep inside.

Cause humans always lie.

 

I’m fearless when I need to be,

But I still get scared so easily.

Cause inside the walls of my head

Are echoes still jumbling