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Road is covered in fog 

My hands bound to memories 

The kind that survived the war . 

No one is listening 

They make up there own memoirs 

About me . 

I tell you to your face with mine red 

Lips displaced 

I’m a survivor not a victim 

I’m not second best . 

We don’t have rules here 

But as the sun grows tired 

I’m reminded of just who I am . 

Why can’t you see it for yourself 

I said . 

The crowd ( jokers ) 

I rest my hand on my chin . 

King me please she said . 

No one listens again 

As I stand here alone . 

I’m ok with that