Falling from heaven, the me I constructed from glitter and Paper Mache, torn into pieces, destruction releases me to be who I am today. The games and the pretense never made any sense, but I tried to fit to the mold, to meet expectations, to greet celebrations. Now, I’m tired of doing what I’m told. I’m coming full circle, back to where I started, but I’m a bit wiser this time. I’m changing direction, not reaching perfection, but I’m gonna take what is mine. I’m breaking the frame. I’m walking away. I’ve gotta find what else I need. I’m jumping the track and not looking back. Don’t tell me who I’m supposed to be. I’ve gotta be free, free to be me. I’m building a new life upon the remains of the shattered pieces; I’m breaking the frame.