December

You make me into something
I've always been afraid of
and you never ask for anything
more than what I'm made of

but still i fall short,
i never measure up
my mind begins to distort
how much of you is enough

any trace of happiness
has to be destroyed
now I'm becoming the mess
i was trying to avoid

you make me into someone
that I've always hate
every imperfection
1000 times exaggerated

this doesn't make sense
like drowning in self-loathing
i don't know what to make of this
always assuming, never knowing

and i cant get inside of your head
no matter where i go
you'd rather i be inside your bed
than allowing your feelings to show