and we've got everybody singin...

stuck in a spring shower daze.
writing lyrics that no one will understand.
left out in the cold,
fighting every word you've said to me.
call me out, make it count.
cause every word you say
makes me try so much harder.
trying to make myself worth something.
trying to get someone interested in what i have to say.
waiting for someone to waste 5 minutes
reading sick, sad poetry
from a girl who never mattered to anyone but herself.
my creative writing director says i've got potential.
he says i've got a way with words,
a talent for conveying strong emotions.
he doesnt know that none of this is fiction.
my friends will never know who i really am.
and maybe i'm better off that way.
because my pen hides so many secrets
and no one needs to know what they are.
there's only a few people in this world
that can feel the magic in the ink
as it hits the page and spills stupid stories;
stories we didn't think we had in us.
but to get someone reading it.
to get someones attention; interested,
is a feeling no one can explain.
no one can describe it.
and if you've been here before,
i'm standing in your shadow
waiting for you to turn around
so i can finally say thank you
and make my peace
and leave.