For my story

For my story, I speak not those words,

For my family, do i speak.

For my story is not just mine.

It starts with mama and papa, who made mistakes when they were young. 

It moves on with now three more, but trouble comes with four.

For now my story is with two worlds, one with mama, and one with papa.

Now forward my story moves, seven years into the future.

A english teacher, who shows a burnning passion,

for each student she passes through the hall.

Who just by following, the plan's handed out,

opening my whole new world,

for my story not to just have new eyes,

But for my story, to turn from a cloudy dreary storm of anger and depression,

Into a gental spring breese, of freedom and joy.