my mother tells me i’m lucky,
father says i’m blessed.
but it’s hard to count any blessings
when i’m always out of breath.
grandma says i look pale,
it’s because i’m not getting enough sleep.
when the farm becomes abandoned
it’s hard to count any sheep.
i’m a mess who makes more messes,
sister tells me it’ll be alright-
that even in my darkest moments
i must remember to turn on the light.
but i think the lightbulb’s broken
or maybe much too dim,
because the only joy i feel
is when i’m looking up at him.
i’m tired of being sorry,
i’m sorry for being tired.
in life these days my
happiness and satisfaction isn’t required.
so it ***** if i’m a disappointment
but it’s hard to focus on grades
when instead my mind likes to relive
every mistake i’ve ever made.
i really didn’t mean to hurt you
i hope you can learn not to be mad.
i just wish i didn’t always go through the day
feeling so ******* sad.