I am, I am

I've been blessed by the
homeless as i dropped a quarter in their cups i've been adored by a
boy on ectasy that i wished i could love but just couldn't; i've held your hair back while you puked and told you the world wasn't so bad (and thought to Myself
well that's a bunch of shit)
I've been your whore your best friend the girl who you never talk to (i Scribble in the corner with darting eyes and a quick pen you're a ghost in my Sketchbook and You'll never know) i've been it all,i've been it all and i thought i knew myself so well
i was a dreamer i was a sweetheart i was all paint stained jeans and crazy curly hair i was so
in tune and you could never hurt me...
(i thought true love existed and
shoulder blades were wings covered in skin)
i thought i could let someone know me i thought i could let someone read between the lines (and though these are metaphor lines sometimes it's not
metaphor cocaine)  now I am just a girl,
just a girl
who's  dragging herself out of bed and wishing she didn't i had the world in my hands and curiousity always pulls me down (they say why do you do it, curiousity is once and the second is a choice)
i'm no saint or angel and i never though god was here i make mistakes and i change my mind; i wish i liked coffee but the
truth is I can't stand it; i leave sketches inbetween the pages Of books in the library (now im so like you, i am the brick wall) I was in love once, i thought,
and i miss your freckles
i'm defined by my scars and my
battle wounds, by an Unnameable feeling that everyone knows
i am a ghost in someone's sketchbook, somewhere (you can see right through me right down into my soul)saints and angels have wings but i
i am just a metaphor for a
broken heart