If life and death are so clear,

Then why do I feel this fear?

When darkness flows like a stream,

How do I know if it's a dream?

Should I scream in agony?

Or should I cry?

What will happen when I'm gone,

Who will mourn me in end?

But no, I refuse to accept this fate.

For all my dreams..it's never to late.

I will stand strong and brave,

I will refuse their calling too my grave.

I may be small, or even weak,

But in my heart, I am great.

Those who mock me, know no joy.

For they are like little toys.

Their presence does not matter, I will not quake.

For I truly know now, that I will be great.