Rip my paper but I can still

create poetry in my head.

I'll remember the words forever,

the words of hate and sorrow.


Rip my heart and I'll try

to raise my head up and be strong.

But it's not working, is it?

I'm falling to my knees in defeat.


Rip my paper, rip my heart

to little shreds and little pieces.

They're floating in the wind,

carried across the world.


Rip my paper, rip my heart

but you can never rip my dreams.