He knows what happened to me.
He knows the thoughts that run through my head at the middle of the night.
He knows the terrible things I've done to my self.
But the one thing he doesn't know
Is who I really am.
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Maybe life was a little like wet paint. You could just sit there and watch it dry, or you can take it and make something better out of it. Change all of it until what you originally made is something totally knew.