I still power through the day
like a bulldozer on display
for the world to believe
that I'll make it past New Year's Eve.

With a body that fights to survive
and with a mind that wants to die
I remember when I was five
years old and grateful for a blue sky.

Now my world is painted black
and I'm a shell of the girl I used to be
I wear a stone-filled backpack
faking being carefree.

I don't want to burden anyone
with my "small, inconvenient issues"
it's not like a shotgun
is being pressed to a small girl's head without tissues.