Era buena estudiante, pero nunca la mejor de la clase. Obviamente, no podría ser tomada en cuenta en cualquier cosa atlética. Ni artístico o musical, ningún talento en particular del cual presumir. Nadie nunca me regaló un trofeo por leer libros. Después de años de mediocridad, me bastaron para ser una chica promedio. Ahora me di cuenta que hace mucho tiempo había perdido la aspiración de sobresalir en algo. Sólo hice lo mejor con lo que tenia, nunca muy adecuado en mi mundo.

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What do you feel when you see all the homeless on the street? Who do you pray for at night before you go to sleep? What do you feel when you look in the mirror? Are you proud? How do you sleep while the rest of us cry? How do you dream when a mother has no chance to say goodbye? How do you walk with your head held high? Can you even look me in the eye and tell me... why? Dear Mr. President, Were you a lonely boy? Are you a lonely boy? How can you say no child is left behind? We're not dumb and we're not blind. They're all sitting in your cells while you pave the road to hell. What kind of father would take his own daughter's rights away? And what kind of father might hate his own daughter if she were gay? I can only imagine what the first lady has to say you've come a long way from whiskey and cocaine. Let me tell you 'bout hard work, minimum wage with a baby on the way, let me tell you 'bout hard work, rebuilding your house after the bombs took them away, let me tell you 'bout hard work, building a bed out of a cardboard box, you don't know nothing 'bout hard work!

Labels: By: Pink.