I'm an angel, I'm a devil
I am sometimes in between
I'm as bad as it can get
And good as it can be
Sometimes I'm a million colours
Sometimes I'm black and white
I am all extremes
Try to figure me out you never can
There's so many things I am
I am special
I am beautiful
I am wonderful
Sometimes I'm miserable
Sometimes I'm pitiful
But that's so typical of all the things I am
I'm someone filled with self-belief
I'm haunted by self-doubt
I've got all the answers
I've got nothing figured out
I like to be by myself
I hate to be alone
I'm up and I am down
But that's part of the thrill
Part of the plan
Part of all of the things I am
I'm a million contradictions
Sometimes I make no sense
Sometimes I'm perfect
Sometimes I'm a mess
Why cant i choose the way i want to be?
Why cant i be perfect? Does perfection exist? and, what is perfection?
Why are there things that i love and hate about myself?
Why cant we all love everything about ourselves?
Is that possible?
Is that so bad?
Maybe, perfection is the way that humans are..
With all our mistakes and stuff..
Maybe i'm perfect..
I've heard: 'You're a special girl'
Am i special?
Is the rest of the people special?
What makes a person special?
Is everybody special in the same way?
Which are the right things?
How can i know if the things that i do are right?
Do the things that i do affect other persons?
Do they hurt them?
Do they make them feel good?
Are all the mistakes pardonable?
Is there a way to aboid them?
Do all the mistakes teach us something?
Am i the only one that has millions of questions and doubts?
Am i the only one that thinks in all that?