"I cant write anymore" she said
But i was thinking to myself
that was bullshit as her
pen bled some of the illest
knowlede to be dropped
some of the most useful you'll ever need
all she wrote was
"know who you are,
fall in love with that identity
with all your exsistence"
she threw down her pen like
she just finished doing reps
with 50 pound weights
The hate in her eyes
I could see swelling up as she
looked down at an almost empty page
rage, spilled from her mouth
"thats all i got and its not good enough"
ripping out pages in her book
like her own philosophy had been
ripped from her very soul
she feels she's too old
to change, her brain will
forever remain the same

I go to her to lean on
when i'm not strong but
when she's feeling a little weak
she's gotta stand on her own
I do what i can to
reassure her but
how do you reassure a
little girl that there are no monsters
in tha closet, that she dont
got to sleep with the door open
she can close it
close yourself to the idea of
perfection, that your protection
is inside your imperfection
that beauty has got the world
at a stand still and at your will
just pick up where you left off
even when you feel you dont
have anything else to give
just a few words of encouragement
can give you the will to live.