I’m tired, I wish I could sleep more.
I went to the bathroom, I looked in the mirror.
I practiced my fake smile, I might need it today.
Black clothes are my favorite, I put a black band t-shirt on.
I put my hair up, I look in the mirror again.
I see a broken hearted girl with parents who don’t love her.
I want to die; I don’t want to fight or struggle anymore.
I wanted to get away from my parents, I still do.
I don’t want to keep moving around.
I feel like a piece of furniture that people buy and then later sell.
My birth-family didn’t want me, my adoptive parents don’t want me do they?