the
greed
of
men
will
never
be
satisfied
and
we
will
never
be
enough

Of course
you'd choose her
with that pretty
little smile,
not me
with that crazed
look of mine.

Of course
you'd choose her
cute and small,
not me
pudgy and tall

Of course
you'd choose her
kind and sweet,
not me
a reckless wild treat

Of course
you'd choose her
thoughtful and smart,
not me
who would rather eat a ****.

When will I meet the man
who will choose me
especially with all my insecurities?

I don't like being alone.
I'm left unguarded,
the Darkness grins,
rising within me,
trapping me for the night.

Being around friends,
means safety,
the Darkness can barely touch me there.
So I put on that smile, as if Light fills me
when really the Darkness lurks,
waiting till again I am left vulnerable
without my armour, without the happy façade.

Stupid,
stupid,
stupid
love,
the
reason
our
world
is
tilted
but
also
the
reason
the
world
is
still
right.

Huh,
Suddenly I think someone does care,
Huh,
They’re looking not just to stare,
Huh,
They actually notice me there,
Huh,
Are they actually admiring me?

Huh,
wow.
I never noticed the many
little beauties all around,
waiting patiently to be found.
Huh, I never noticed that flower in the drain,
resilient despite the rain.

Huh, life isn’t so bad is it?

I used to be confident,
invincible,
felt like Supergirl,
thought I was on top,
untouchable.

Then I tripped
and
kept

f
  a
    l
       l
         i
           n
              g
                   f
                      a
                        l
                          l
                            i
                              n
                                 g

and
now
I'm
just
floating,
hovering
without
direction,
lost.

I wanna be a hero
I'm going out of my head
Maybe its the way you say my name
How can I say this without breaking?
Further apart the closer we are
Last night I was on my last breath
My heart, my heart's an empty canvas
I might lose my mind
Did I drive you away?
All I need is a little love in my life.

"Who am I?"
Is the question I keep asking.
“Who am I?”
Is the reason I keep lacking
And as you girls walk by
I think
Oh, what a sight to see
because

I could never be
as sweet and kind as her,
or
as driven and ambitious as her,
or
as smart and unique as her,
or,
as talented and creative as her
or,
as funny or relatable as her

So which traits make me different from the rest?
what traits are mine, the query heavy on my chest?
is there anything which I am the best?

What makes me 'me'?
Is the new question I keep asking
What makes me 'me'?
Is what keeps my worth sinking

do hearts have to be such foolish things?

I wish "home"  is where my heart is.

I want to help you heal
and put you back together.
But how can I,
when I have my own storm to weather?
How can I,
when I need the glue to fix my own cracks?
How can I,
when I'm still struggling to stay on track?
How do I shelter you
and comfort you in pain,
when my own efforts to
heal myself all end in vain?

How can I spend so much time,
worrying about you,
when I'm breaking,
fragile,
and barely holding up too?

The words,
Bang,
Thud,
Echo,
in my head.
They trap me,
cage me,
weigh me down.

"You're stupid"

"You're worthless"

"No one likes you"

I'm imprisoned in my own mind.
Will I ever be free?

I want someone to love me,
someone to make me smile.
someone to always help me
lift my head back up high.
I want someone to worry, think of me and simply care,
someone who wants my shattered heart,
someone who'll accept me
even when I'm laid bare.
Will I ever get someone like this?
Who thinks of me in bliss?
But now in the middle of the night,
I wonder if I'll ever be alright.

I'm sorry.
I'm so,
so sorry,
I really am trying my best..
but don't you know
that I'll just never be better than the rest?
I'm sorry I can't be what you want or need.
Although,
I'm trying,
and I know that should be enough.
But you just don't think it's tough.

secrets are like baby birds
once they break out of their shells..
they leave the nest, and fly around, free.

I like drawing hearts, they represent love.
Each one imperfect, misshapen, unique.
But still made for love.
Just like us.

I feel numb, unneeded,
I fear I don't fit in the way I think I do
Who would care if I was gone?

They say that what's outside doesn't matter,
but what if what's inside isn't pretty either?

It hurts,
it hurts so,
so much
knowing
that I'm
not the kind of girl
people write songs about
or think about,
care about
or fall for..
Cause I'm too noisy
but also too quiet.
cause I'm not gentle
and not that kind
and I'm not gorgeous
or amazingly talented
and smart.

Will I ever find love..?

I feel guilty,
And I think it's all my fault.
I feel guilty,
For being too much
but still not enough.
I feel guilty,
I swear
I didn’t mean to mess this up too.
I feel guilty,
Because it seems like
my presence just makes things worse.

I feel guilty,
And now I rot because I must.

"Stars shining bright above you"
Cause you're a beam of light, and I'm... a creature of the dark, fading.
But still, I hope you dream a little dream of me.

Everywhere I've thought I belonged,
I feel like they would replace me if they could.

Maybe it's because I'm too loud, too controlling, too much—
annoying when I should be silent, unaware when I should step back.
Maybe I just don't fit the way I think I do.

Now I'm just waiting,
waiting for someone I've cared about or helped to tell me
I'm needed, wanted, more than a foolish waste of space,
that I'd be missed if I were gone,
gone forever.

But for now, I can't help but believe
the world would be better without me.

It’s because I laugh too often and too loud,
'Cause I act too proud,
Act like a child running wild,
that they don’t think I could ever be unhappy.

And you?
you just don’t get it.

You think I’m too delicate,
a fragile piece of glass.
Dumb.
Naive.
You don’t get it.

You don’t know how everything you say—
every glance, every joke,
every offhand comment—
fills me with sadness and doubt.

"Can’t I do anything right?"
The words echo.
Bang.
Thud.
Throb in my head.

The sadness overflows.
I just want to lay in bed.
But you don’t get it.

So I shove it back down.
Lift my head up, grinning wide,
keep acting like the childish clown.

I hide behind silly jokes,
because it’s easier than showing the cracks.
Easier than letting you see—
that I’ve already started breaking.