To being 18 and insecure
Every day fighting more and more
Love hurts worse every time
Losing myself in a poem's rhyme
Missing you always
Endless nights and tiresome days
Your voice echoes in my brain
Over and over, again and again
Useless feelings, my insecurities reign
Covering up my scars
And frequenting bars
Really it's not that great
E**ighteen is just ten years of misery, plus eight.
