"I know that man up there on that cross"

Her parents never took the young girl to church. Never spoke of his name. Never read her his word. Two non-believers walkin' lost in this world. Took their baby with them. What a sad little girl. Her daddy drank all day and mommy did drugs. Never wanted to play or give kisses and hugs. She'd watch the TV and sit there on the couch while her mom fell asleep and her daddy went out. And the drinking and the fighting just got worse every night. Behind their couch she'd be hiding. Oh, what a sad little life. And like it always does the bad just got worse. With every slap and every curse. Until her daddy in a drunk rage one night used a gun on her mom and then took his life. And some people from the city took the girl far away to a new mom and a new dad. Kisses and hugs everyday. Her first day of Sunday school the teacher walked in. And a small little girl stared at a picture of him. She said, "I know that man up there on that cross. I don't know his name but I know he got off. Cause he was there in my old house. And held me close to his side as I hid there behind our couch the night that my parents died..."

Dicen que soy un libro sin argumento, que no sé si vengo o voy, que me piedro entre mis sueños. Dicen que soy una fotó en blanco y negro, que tengo que dormis más, que me puede mi mal genio. Dicen que soy una chica normal com pequeñas manías que hacen desesperar, que no sé bien donde esta el bien y el mal, donde esta mi lugar. Y esta soy yo, asustada y decidida. Una especie en extinción, tan real como la vida y esta soy yo. Ahora llega mi momento, no pienso renunciar. No queiro perder el tiempo. Dicen que voy como perro sin su dueño, como barco sin un mar, como alma sin su cuerpo. Dicen que soy un océano de hielo, que tengo que reír más y callar un poco menos. No sé que tu piensas. No soy tu cenicienta, no soy la última pieza de tu puzzle sin amar. No soy quien ideaste. Quizás te equivocaste, quizás no es el momento. Quizás te no soy quien ideaste, apuntar lo que hice mal.

Is it me, or is it fear?

'The hurt builds up inside me until I can't stand it anymore.
Then I have to cut to let it out.'