I stand tall like an oak tree, strudy and strong. 

Or so it seems-- to everyone but me. 

What everyone sees is oh, so very wrong;

I am not strong and tall like the oak Tree.

I really stand hurt and weak like a sapling,

Tired of the fight.

Weak from the pain, and hurt from life. 

One day, someone may see

That I am not the stong Oak tree...

And maybe they will help me. 

Until then, right here I will be--

The small sapling, 

Pretending to be the tall, strong oak tree.