I want to be the child she wished me to be;
But they won't let me and keep on haunting me;
Bad habits are what they are called;
Having spread their roots deep within, holding me taut.

Am I thinking of myself too highly;
If I say this whole precious day was wasted on me solely;
Wow nonsense! You have a brain fog, you cannot even think clearly.

Writing poems and stories, maybe you should just give up;
'Cause you're not confident or talented enough to write about important issues and real stuff;
Can you understand your own self?
Will you ever figure out or do you need help?

I don't even know, if I'm good at anything at all;
A single achievement or moment of pride, can you recall?

Stop the abstract and actual stabbings;
They'll just hurt in vain, and are not acknowledged to be actually punishing.

Lousy rhymes, lame lines, lazy you;
I just cannot understand, no matter how much I try to.