A Devil For Me

Heather, the name given to me by my mother
She thought it was perfect, at best.
It was nice at first, I liked it, I did.
So here is the story, of how it became a pest.

It was a beautiful thing, that name Heather
It was all my own.
Then, they pointed out every flaw and mistake
And now I wish I were never known.

 So many meanings,
So many thoughts,
Their words cut like razors.
I did not know what to do, I was never taught.

 “Heather, that fat girl.”
“Heather, she is gay.”
“Oh Heather? She cuts herself.”
It happened every single day.

 “Heather,” she said so many times
“I need you, I do
You mean so much to me, do not let me go.”
I promised I was not going to.

 She said the name Heather was something special
That it saved her in her darkest hour.
I did not believed it at first
But she was convinced it held a certain power.

 She was my best friend
Maybe even more than that, like a sister.
It was me and her against the world,
And it is sad to say I kind of miss her

 ‘Cause she meant a lot to me,
I had some problems, as I do now.
She helped me through them all
Now she is not here, we kind of had a vow.

So now it is easy to see,
The reason why I hate my name.
It just reminds me,
Of the person I became.

 Now how stubborn are these scars?
They will not fade away.
But they are just a reminder,
That now are better days.

 And here I sit, with a single thought
Heather, who am I really?
What does it all mean?
These questions are all just silly.

 It is a simple answer
Heather, that is me.
I am a person, just as everyone else
Heather, it is who I am, you see?

Heather, that is me
Someone I am learning to love.
Heather, I am unique,
Who lives way above.

Above those who hate me,
Just for being Heather.
I am getting better,
Learning to live with the name

        Heather