I once knew a girl,
She was young,
But seemed years older
Than her real age,
In her real world.
She had no name,
She had not a care.
She was not the same,
Some called her special,
Some called her lame.
She was lost in her head,
There were whispers
That her personality was dead.
But I knew that wasn't so,
In her daydreams,
Her opinions always glowed.
In her dreams,
Practically anything happened,
Or so it seems.
She told me about
Lost hopes that could
Blossom and would
Become realities
In her fantasies.
What's that?
You think you know this girl?
This girl constantly lost in her own special world?
If you know this girl,
I know her too,
Because well...
You see,
This girl is actually me.
