Come on home
They told you every day, they let you know how worthless you are, a piece of tin discarded in the sand, a piece of grass in the field. They sprayed it in your face every morning and berated you every evening. What insult have you not known? Every time when they sent you out for not being as good as them, for not working as much as them, I understood. Every day when they underestimated you and tossed coins with your future, when they believed you were nothing, I saw something in you. When they closed the road they let you open another. When they shut you out of their lives they let you concentrate on yours. I know that they never saw your strengths, only your weaknesses. I know that they never witnessed your successes but never missed your failures. The good thing is that you knew how strong you were and what it is you were capable of. I know very well that you want to quit, for you feel that your end has come. This here is not the end. It is just the beginning, the eerie hours of the morning, and end to the long and torturous night. It shall dawn sometime tomorrow. Let us pray that you shall summon enough conviction to believe again. I hope that at the end of the journey you shall reach out into the dark and bridge the gap. You have been down and hit rock bottom a number of times, but the good thing about the bottom is that you can never go lower than that. You shall rise, you shall soar you fighter, you albatross of the sea. You shall glide, you little hawk. You shall win someday, little champion. Go, run, run, run. Follow the star of the north, and there you shall find us, a whole group of us, all those they pulled down, all that they battered and left for dead. You shall find us all, those that the society called misfits for simply seeing the colour in grey. You shall find a group, a whole group of people like us, where we embrace insanity and uniqueness and refuse to grow old. You will find a group of rebels without guns and without fear, legends who write their own stories and chip their faces in stones. Come home, little one. There will be arms to welcome you and hugs to disappear in. Welcome among friends, they that live in the north. Never let them know that they got to you, just thank them for allowing you to find yourself.
They told you every day, they let you know how worthless you are, a piece of tin discarded in the sand, a piece of grass in the field. They sprayed it in your face every morning and berated you every evening. What insult have you not known? Every time when they sent you out for not being as good as them, for not working as much as them, I understood. Every day when they underestimated you and tossed coins with your future, when they believed you were nothing, I saw something in you. When they closed the road they let you open another. When they shut you out of their lives they let you concentrate on yours. I know that they never saw your strengths, only your weaknesses. I know that they never witnessed your successes but never missed your failures. The good thing is that you knew how strong you were and what it is you were capable of. I know very well that you want to quit, for you feel that your end has come. This here is not the end. It is just the beginning, the eerie hours of the morning, and end to the long and torturous night. It shall dawn sometime tomorrow. Let us pray that you shall summon enough conviction to believe again. I hope that at the end of the journey you shall reach out into the dark and bridge the gap. You have been down and hit rock bottom a number of times, but the good thing about the bottom is that you can never go lower than that. You shall rise, you shall soar you fighter, you albatross of the sea. You shall glide, you little hawk. You shall win someday, little champion. Go, run, run, run. Follow the star of the north, and there you shall find us, a whole group of us, all those they pulled down, all that they battered and left for dead. You shall find us all, those that the society called misfits for simply seeing the colour in grey. You shall find a group, a whole group of people like us, where we embrace insanity and uniqueness and refuse to grow old. You will find a group of rebels without guns and without fear, legends who write their own stories and chip their faces in stones. Come home, little one. There will be arms to welcome you and hugs to disappear in. Welcome among friends, they that live in the north. Never let them know that they got to you, just thank them for allowing you to find yourself.
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