Looking back on the little girl,
Growing up in a perfect world,
So very loved and carefree,
That was a different reality.
The me that I am now,
How I was before,
Myself is really quite that bad,
It mustn't go on anymore.
The way I look,
Down to what I say,
The thing that I am,
When I exist everyday,
When something is perfect as can be,
That is the farthest thing from me.
Why do so many people pretend,
That they all truly care,
When if they knew the real me,
Not one would still be there,
A mistake is made every time I breathe,
Such a wonderful world isn't deserved by me.
All my bad habits,
Seem clearly fine to me,
All these wrong choices,
How awful I must be.
When all the wrongs feel right,
And the darkness is my light,
I wish everybody would leave me alone,
So myself could be cured, and cured alone.
