In order to protect something that's mine, don't harm someone else's things. As precious as something is to me. Their things are also precious to them.

Byul knew loss from the start of her life,
growing up with a father who lost his wife.
No sister to teach her, no protection from a brother,
All she was to her father was bother.

School was no better, it neglected the kid,
leaving her lost, anger boiling the lid.
Her classmate saw a target, free to be cruel,
making school-life a hell under tyrannical rule.

They saw no girl, and she was not a boy,
just a target for torment, a weak little toy.
But she didn’t lash out, she pulled the anger inward,
put it on paper and unleashed it with harsh words.

Spoken poems at small artsy meetings,
it was easy enough to see how she was dealing.
But she knew there was more, she could be a lot tougher,
and from a stranger came the perfect offer.

Poems became bars as she learned how to rap,
no longer willing to take anyone’s crap.
Her father, her classmates, they didn’t mean .
In the underground she got her first hit.

And as her star grew the words began moving,
Her bars became better and people started grooving.
Rapping and writing became her day to day,
at least until a voice would come and say:

“Your skills are impressive, we could make use of your talent
teach rap to our idols so we can build balance.
Byul, take the chance, I promise you won’t be sorry,
We’ll take care of you at Diamond Soul Factory.”