Published and copyrighted by me in my third book It’s corny I’m sorry
Look over there, it’s Prom Queen, Look right there, it’s a sign of my defeat, And we’ll make paper crowns, And let this feeling drown, Because what’s the point of a jewel, If mine doesn’t shine, Because what’s the point of a jewel, If mine doesn’t make others cry? And Look over there, we’re all standing in a line, We can’t find the judge, it exists in our minds, We can’t find the judge, so we go for the kill, Who knew that a crown could make me feel so ill, As I walk the queen pass by, As I let my heart break and cry, I wish that I wore some sort of disguise. And there goes my mind, And there goes the knife, It stabs some sort of part of me, Which no one can see but I see it in me, Which no one can see but we see it when we look someone else in the eye. And look over there, Someone else was given their fair share, She’s holding his hand and she’s got pretty hair, This just really isn’t fair, And we all try our best not to care, And we try our best not to stare, When someone else’s crown is made of something that makes me shake. And so I made a paper crown, And let it sit up high, It wasn’t made of gold, But it was all of my pride, And so I made a paper crown, And ripped off a piece, When I let my mind speak, I’ll never be a queen but I still want to be seen, I’ll never be a queen but I want someone to recognize the air that I breathe. And I look over there, And watch my competitors dress twirl, It was a pretty pink, something that could be described in ink, But there was a look in her eye, That made her look like she wanted to cry, But there was something in her mind, That made her feel like she wasn’t worth the time. And so she made a paper crown, And she let that feeling drown, It’s an ocean that sweeps you in, Once you see the sea, Once you reach that age, When you wished that you were what you saw on TV, Because what’s the point of watching that sliver screen, When that movie star makes me feel sick on the inside, Look at her crown, It isn’t made of paper, But somewhere backstage, She’s out there reading the words written about what rests on her head, And it haunts her when she tries to go to bed, The one thing we all dread, And she lets that feeling drown, And it follows her around, “Because what’s the point of my jewel If someone else’s shines more than mine?” So look over there, It’s prom queen, The title changes every week, Once they find a paper crown, And they let some sort of feeling drown, And what’s the point of a jewel, If we find our worth on paper, And what’s the point of a jewel, When we don’t let ourselves shine?
