Don't give up.

If you walked in my home, you’d probably see,
a quaint little kitchen, where you could have tea.
Two, cute little rooms, for children to play,
and rest their weary heads, at the end of the day.
One little toasty fireplace, for cold winter nights,
and to warm up little hands, after snowball fights.

When I walk in my home, all I can see,
is a man deep in work, who’s ignoring me.
A woman, who’s heart, has been neglected,
an older girl’s fake smile, that’s been perfected.
I’d see a young girl buried in studies,
who’d grow up, and take drugs along with her buddies.

If you looked at me, you’d probably see,
a shallow version of myself, but not actually me.
Life teaches you lessons, does it not?
You’d never see the darkness, that I’ve actually fought.
For for people ask me, “Why are you so funny?”
“A sad childhood,” I’ll joke, as they tip me money.

It’s not about your circumstances, but what you’re made of.
It is a series of hard obstacles, testing how you rise above.
Personally being goofy, is my metaphorical Geisha face,
Life’s not about what you have, it’s all about the chase.