Maybe I am not all of those white lies
I was told I'd be when I was a kid,
there is nothing special behind my eyes
and I know even less than I ever did.
I know they were told to boost my esteem
but your words did more harm than they did good
because when I defiantly dared to dream
I got far less than I thought I should.
I am no longer your little boy
but I am just as fragile and scared,
I am still searching for another toy
rather than waiting for mine to be repaired.
And when in need, I screw up my face and cry,
so maybe that baby in me did not die.