A small group of friends is much greater

Than trying to stand in a horde.

A crowd makes me feel like a traitor

Like my Identity’s jumping off board.

 

By nature, the crowd tries to smother

And stifle my identity

But deep down, we all need each other

Yes, quite like a bird needs a tree.

 

When people are laughing and mocking,

I remember that they do not know

What’s keeping me up, I keep walking,

Away from that quarrelsome foe.

 

My dreams are a plan I am making

And change is a way of my heart

And maybe I’ll notice the aching

Is changing and turning to art.

 

Yes beauty is not from the outside,

It’s not from the delicate skin.

The soul is what emanates beauty,

It’s bursting and flowing within.

 

And when I think something’s unsightly,

Like rotten old weeds or some mold,

I take on another perspective

And then it becomes just like gold.

 

If something is so overwhelming

That makes me just want to give in

I kind of just try to remember

That failure is where we begin.