Chosen or Survived

Hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm, hmm,

hmm, hmm. If I'm chosen, why does it hurt like this?

God made me soft and the world took notes. Watched every place I would bend.

I was too busy looking for me, none didn't notice who got in.

They said, "You're special, you're different, and I'm nice. You don't have

to work." Like that explained the ache. War my wounds like they were

proof I was built this way. I found suffering was sacred. Found staying meant

I was strong. Turns out some people love the light. But can't handle