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Give my body youthful grace for which to dance openly and naive. Feed my experience through springs clean air until my confidence is full in bloom Give my heart warm summer fire and let me drink from the depths of my life Feed my passion with bright unadulterated pleasure until my body is full and content Give my soul moments of remembrance where I can shelter through the falling leaves of my body Feed my spirit with the bountiful harvest of summer leaving me warm with passions glow Give my mind understanding to shelter me through the lean seasons of my life Feed my deep roots with the snows of winter and let me reflect on it's bare isolation

Some days are Better Than others I wish I could be Proud Of my roots Sometimes... Sometimes I am Most of the time... I remember My upbringing The sheer Trauma of it And all The lesser hurts That still Make me rage Make me ache Make me Weak Lesser All the stereotypes True No laughing Matter But it's not just that My mother country Is the world's Enemy Hitler would be proud But it's not just that I remember Being the only one Like me At my school To be mocked All that I Was good for My friends Share awesome things About their roots But I Must always Hold back my tongue I can never Know their pride So fierce It's funny Mine's not even The "cool" country In its Continent It doesn't have Special comics or pop Its the black sheep With popular neighbours Shackled By stupid traditions Run down And crowded up All these years I've been running Trying to Jam my stupid square peg Into another culture But I know In my heart of hearts I'd only ever Be an outsider To