Dear me, did they throw thorns along your way?
did you let them prick you while you knelt to pray?
Tell me, did they ever listen to you?
or did they just stand afar
while your whole world turned blue?

It must’ve been hard, but i’ll tell you what
I’ll share the pain that’ll flow through your cut
I’ll be there to pick those needles out
I’ll be there to hear you out

But promise me,
you wont ever stop, or give up or play dead
Promise me
that you’ll never let them get into your head
You will pick yourself up each and every time
not having to look for human dimes

Be it the darkest of the nights
You’ll be the moon giving yourself the light
Be it the loneliest moon
You’ll be the koel singing yourself a tune

Because, in the end, it won’t ever be they,
It will always be me, myself, and I, paving the way.

 ~h.