My mascara running down my cheek,
I am always so tired and I feel weak.
The lump in my throat makes it too hard to eat.
I´m so numb, will my life be complete?

My poor tear stained pillow
it probably wants a break from my low.
My heart wrenching to not be a burden
to those who ¨love¨ me, I cant be certain.

I cant walk but only crawl.
I can barley be who you want me to be at all.
You basically call me a freak while
my mascara runs down my cheek.