i am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told.

Some days you end up sprawled on your polished wooden floor wondering how you got to a place where you feel so empty.

But some days, the thunder echoes louder than your fear. And your music drowns out their existence. And you have a seat. You feel elated. 

You realize that if it doesn't work out in the end, you'll leave. You'll find a way to avoid home. A way to avoid the bitterness that tore at your seams. You'll find a way to survive. Because you were born a fighter. You were raised an achiever. But more importantly, you taught yourself to dream.