When I was a kid 

I always liked to dress up like a superhero 

The foam muscles made me feel strong 

Obviously I realized that I wasn’t any stronger 

But my actual knowledge of reality didn’t matter 

I felt like I was stronger because I could pretend  

To be someone else 

Someone who helped people who needed it 

Someone who doesn’t need help 

At least that’s what little me saw 

Do you actually know how you get stronger? 

You work out, right? 

When you work out 

You tear yourself apart 

That’s why it hurts 

But every muscle fiber that you break 

Is replaced by 3 more 

That’s what little me didn’t see 

That those who were the strongest were the ones 

Who broke the most 

They had fallen the most 

They had cried the most 

But even with all of that 

They were the ones 

Who kept walking down that path 

They were the ones 

Who got back up 

They were the ones 

Who had seen the light of opportunity in the darkest times 

And no one gets there on their own 

Some can act like they don’t need it 

But without help 

All those times that you break 

All those times that you fall 

All those times that you cry 

They add up 

Little scars layering up 

One on top of the other 

Until that one spot is so weak 

That even the smallest touch will shatter it 

And when a person shatters 

Their scars get spread out 

All of those around them 

Get a little taste 

Get a matching scar 

And the cycle repeats again 

That’s what little me didn’t see 

That’s what little me couldn’t see 

That those who looked like they didn’t need help 

Needed help the most out of anyone 

Those superheroes that I dressed up as 

While they were so much stronger than me 

They got that much stronger 

By carrying around the weight of their pain 

The weight of their trauma 

The weight of their mistakes 

The weight of all of those times  

That they needed help