She wakes up, she chokes on life, wide awake but numb.
She lives inside a world that’s both a castle and a slum.
She hears people ask, “Who are you” and doesn’t know what to say.
She looks around her mind and asks, “Why am I this way?”

She feels awkward and alone as her conscience grows.
She walks a narrow, winding path, not knowing where it goes.
She wants to be a someone, instead of just “hey, you”.
She listens to the words of others and questions if they’re true.

She dreams, she thinks, she ponders, even though she knows she’s wrong.
She writes broken, hollow nothings - the lyrics to her song.
She lies under her sheets at night and stares into the dark.
She grasps the world around her; she hopes to leave a mark.

She remembers her experiences, laughing at each one.
She wants to do something but realizes that everything’s been done.
She sorts through all her memories, choosing the ones she keeps.
She still wonders who she is as she falls asleep.