Anne

I came to a small attic

Not knowing what to do

Everyone can't handle me, I'm too "dramatic"

It feels like I'm playing with the Nazis, getting ready to lose.

My mother's motherness, I begin to loathe

My fear gives me nightmares, Everyone knows

I mask in happiness to show

someday we're not going to hide anymore

I am not rude, I'm straight forward

I make my days great

There is a whole other road I'm heading toward

I am who I am, one you can't rate

Peter and I sometimes might rumble

involuntary start some trouble

But after that day, he kissed me

Now we probably could get a little more friendly.

It has been about a year of hiding

The adults are having problems of dividing

There is a lesson that we haven't learned yet

But you can't blame anyone, because I'm definetely not perfect.