Reflections and advice on stolen youth. |
Look into my eyes, And at the lines on my face. They'll tell you a story, Of my time and my race. It all started when I, Was a young, care-free child. Some said I was spunky, Some said I was wild. Although I was young, I had to be wise. To withstand all the hurt, And to see through the lies. I acted like most, But hid deep inside. My smile a mask, My spirit had died. I wanted to be free, I didn't want no more pain. Night after night, It happened again and again. No longer a child, At the young age of ten. My youth had been stolen, By the monster of men. I am now an adult, Filled with anger and rage. I want to just fly, But I'm a bird in a cage. That bird in that cage, Is the mask on my face. It hides all the hurt, And shows beauty and grace. I am that bird, And I'm singing my song. As long as I sing, You can't ask me, "What's wrong?". Today I am old, As I tell you this tale. No longer a child, But a bit worn and frail. You now see through my eyes, And saw my life as a race. The bird, you can't see now, Through the lines on my face. I have sung you my song, So I let go the rage. I spread my old wings now, Watch me fly from my cage. My youth never left me, Don't let yours pass by. I kept on my mask, To fearful to fly. So take off your masks, And let go of your rage. Sing out your songs, And fly free from your cage. |