My Voice

I never really got to say goodbye
And I never really did understand
And I just sat there on the floor
Staring at my bed
What’s funny
What’s really funny
Is I really believed in you
I looked into your eyes
At 3 in the morning
When all pretenses had faded
And it was all you
And, God, I loved you

I see shadows in your eyes
But I wanna be your light
And I'll take your hand
If you'll take mine

I'll hold you close to me
And I will help you see
Just how wonderful life can be

What a beautiful person you are, even beneath those rose lenses, when you show your true self. You are kind and gentle and loving. But be wary of those whom surround you, for they sway you so easily. Stand firm, hold your ground, be true to you. If that voice in your head begins to question your morality, it is time to begin self-reflection. Are you happy with this, where you are right now? What of your past; are you happy with the decisions you've made? Your future; are you happy with the decisions you are about to make? When your heart or mind feel disheveled, take time to pause. I think you forget, all too often, that this is even an option. You move like the river, in constant motion. Perhaps you fear the stillness will bring stagnation. But even the most powerful waves come to pause before receding into that great and powerful ocean. Take heed, for this is important.

Have I told you how beautiful your soul is?
You are so real, so genuine, so perfect - I can hardly fathom how someone like you can exist in a world ruled by tribulation.
You're against the laws of nature. I was raised by the universal rule "There is no such thing as perfect." Yet, here you are!
Mother Nature must be so bitter with you. How dare you?
I was so comfortable in my distrust of others. How dare you make me question that?
What a rebel you are.
I like you.
I love you.
I thank you,
because I'm this much better of a person for having met you.

She always was a wild kind of thing.
She was a child of wonder, of existence, of scrapes and bruises.
Ambitious from the start, she felt the world was hers for the taking.
But, oh, how that world took her.
It beat her, cut her, tore her pages away piece by piece.
She came unbound.
She lost her stories and was left with blank pages.
Who am I?
I don't know.
Who am I?
Stop asking!
Who am I?
I am...unwritten.
Who am I?
I am...anything.
Who am I?
I am strength.
I have to be.
Pandora ripped out her own heart and sealed it up inside a box.
You don't belong anymore. You're no good to me now.
And, with a kiss, she hid it in cold darkness.
No one will ever find you here and I'll be safe.
Oh, but little girl, no one is safe from the world.
A grave robber stole that little girl's heart and held it ransom.
It was his favorite plaything and he kept it for many years until its very beating drove him to madness.
Take it! He cried. I can't hold it any longer! Take it!
He threw it out but she couldn't catch it in time. The box fell and shattered, leaving her heart in the open. Vulnerable.
She scrambled to pick it up but was too slow.
A man bent down and held it there in his hands curiously.
He looked at her but she hid her face in shame.
Guilt overwhelmed him and he tried to return it to her.
But it wasn't hers anymore. It was his. She couldn't grasp it.
Something about her caught him. So he held it there in his hands.
Slowly, she uncovered her face.
As her eyes looked into his, something caught her attention.
Something was sticking out from his a pocket. A letter? A page? A page!
She reached out to grab it and he put up no fight. He had nothing to hide.
It was a page from his own book but...it looked so familiar.
The longer she looked, the more she remembered. She remembered a page of her own. The story so much the same.
She pulled out her broken binding to try to sneak the page into it but he caught her.
When he saw that broken bind, though, he felt a familiar kind of pain.
He took it gently and placed his page inside.
It's yours now. They're all yours now.
He reached into a bag hanging from his shoulder and pulled out his own battered binding. His pages were there but they were torn and stained. But she thought them to be quite beautiful. She gently pulled it from his hand and read it page by page.
Who am I? he heard her whisper.
You're mine. he whispered back.

I know the world can be a cold place and people can be so distant, so unpredictable, so unreliable. Suddenly, you seem to find yourself awake in a world of sleepwalkers. Your senses overwhelm you and, perhaps for the first time in your life, you realize you're alive. At first it's so exciting but, quite quickly, you begin to feel so lonely.
I remember staying up late as a child. I'd sneak out of bed and tiptoe to the living room where I would stand in silence and take inventory of my existence. It felt amazing! But then I would remember I was standing there in a cold room, all alone, while everyone else slept. That's what life can feel like to me - to us. A few of us are awake while the rest sleep and those few who are awake are rarely close by. But I've found you now and no distance can keep my mind from yours. I've been alone for so long, I forgot how wonderful it was to speak and be heard by listening ears and an honest heart. Suddenly all those sleepwalkers fade away into their own silence and all I see is you.
Don't get me wrong: this is quite terrifying. I'd grown to take comfort in my loneliness. I know myself so I know what to expect from myself. But you have a mind of your own and your thoughts are a mystery to me. So I tread this distance carefully, though my heart pushes my feet faster than my mind would prefer.
You see, I've been down this road a couple times before. But I walked the distance only to find one man talking in his sleep and the other the kind of monster that hides under your bed.
Don't be asleep like the others. Don't be a monster. Be real, be genuine, be true and I can promise you I'll be the same.
When you have those moments - and I know you do - when you find yourself surrounded by the loud silence of the sleeping world, I'll be the voice that reminds you you're not alone.

I seek not perfection. I see beauty in the broken pieces. Show me your scars and I'll show you mine. That's where the real beauty lies - behind every lie you've ever spoken, within every tear in your heart, inside every lost dream. That's what makes us human. We are so aware of everything - every broken heartbeat, every quiet tear that rolls down our cheeks, every lonely night and cold morning. Our mere existence is so profound, our minds can hardly begin to grasp it. But try. Try for me. Tell me what you think at night as you lie alone in bed. Whisper your dreams to me: the ones you've lost and the ones you still desperately cling to. Tell me who you've loved, who broke your heart, who gives you hope, who lifts your soul. Show me the bruises, speak to me of every fall you've taken and stair you missed. Show me just how real you are because right now you seem so like a dream.

Oh, hey baby,
Wanna take over the world with me?
We're young and crazy,
so let's run free.
We're two of a kind -
we got this kinda power.
Just take my hand
and this world is ours.