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Nobody was there every day;

yet everyday somebody got something to say.

That girl is that...

That girl is this...

They couldn't answer what I wanted to be as a child.

They don't know if I like my food spicy or mild.

They think of me like a folklore or urban myth.

They couldn't name one science project they helped me with.

They couldn't tell you what my worst subject was or is.

Anything they got to say it's not out of love.

It's out of collective hate;

one day they just unionized against a bitch being great.

Now don't get me wrong I'm not grand at all;

I'm just not afraid to try; I'm just not afraid to fall.

I'm not afraid to take a good risk.

Nobody was there remember so for little me it went like this...

I grew up in Goodwill; they went to the mall.

When Santa brought gifts they had them all.

I got beat in the head; I got dragged by my hair.

Now that I'm grown, they are "concerned" and they "care".

I got yelled at for asking for $20 dollar shoes.

I wore the last pair till they sung the blues.

I brought my next pair myself when I was 14.

So before you tell me they worried about me...

What could you possibly mean?