I’m lost.
I need to be found.
But brought back to where?

Who am I?
I need to figure it out.
I need to be told.

These are all questions
That I should be able to answer.

I should be able
To figure these things out.

I am! I say.
I can! I say.
I am a beautiful person, I say.

Then there is this other voice.
This other little, nasty voice.
That wants to crush my dreams.

It’s name?
Me.

I bring myself down.
I let myself go.

I need to kill that other little, nasty voice.
And listen to the one that tells me I am beautiful.

I can look in the mirror, and see it.
I can look at photos, and see it.
I can look at people, and hear it.

But I need to tell myself,
You are beautiful.

And I need to believe it.