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.