Could it be that our environment is not at fault,
That some choose to thrive and to survive,
While others choose nothing at all,
The way I see it from where I'm standing,
Everything in the past is behind me,
And the rest is up to me,
I choose to be like the tree you see,
Standing tall above ground,
Despite the bumps on the road,
Around a piece of wood it continues to grow,
Thriving and surviving by pure choice,
Be the tree,
Against all odds may you find the power to see,
The future is what you allow it to be.