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Description
Deeper into the darkness and night,
My security has taken flight.
When I crave adventure and provocation,
I slump down and lay from exhaustion.
When I should have taken action,
My body chose distraction.
A captive of fear,
Tortured by my author,
Begging for an end to my insanity,
Bargaining for the ending of my agony.
A character in a story,
My life, a book without category,
Friends, written in without warning,
Without ability for conforming,
Our artists left us unfinished,
Our full potential diminished.
Rise above the cages of imperfection,
Lose the chaos of deception.
Lead with your flaws,
Let your voice be the applause,
Run through the crowded streets,
Sing of your lack of defeat.
Break free of the canvas you're painted upon,
Know that your life is not foregone.
Let Winter be your birth, not your death,
Leap out of your story, take that first breath.
You're strange, and different, and wonderful,
Your first steps are the echo of the thunder,
Your voice is the song of the rain,
Which no artist can attain.
Your song is sung,
From the page, the words have sprung.
Free from your cage of fear,
Let others talk and sneer,
You are of a remarkable kind,
To which the world is blind.
Let them see with their hearts,
Each will only play their parts.
No more a puppet on a string.
Be heard, let your passion sing.

Description
Deeper into the darkness and night,
My security has taken flight.
When I crave adventure and provocation,
I slump down and lay from exhaustion.
When I should have taken action,
My body chose distraction.
A captive of fear,
Tortured by my author,
Begging for an end to my insanity,
Bargaining for the ending of my agony.
A character in a story,
My life, a book without category,
Friends, written in without warning,
Without ability for conforming,
Our artists left us unfinished,
Our full potential diminished.
Rise above the cages of imperfection,
Lose the chaos of deception.
Lead with your flaws,
Let your voice be the applause,
Run through the crowded streets,
Sing of your lack of defeat.
Break free of the canvas you're painted upon,
Know that your life is not foregone.
Let Winter be your birth, not your death,
Leap out of your story, take that first breath.
You're strange, and different, and wonderful,
Your first steps are the echo of the thunder,
Your voice is the song of the rain,
Which no artist can attain.
Your song is sung,
From the page, the words have sprung.
Free from your cage of fear,
Let others talk and sneer,
You are of a remarkable kind,
To which the world is blind.
Let them see with their hearts,
Each will only play their parts.
No more a puppet on a string.
Be heard, let your passion sing.