When I was 6 years old,
I was told I was too much.
Keep it to yourself they'd scold,
you're unlikeable, not bold.
Unique is the opposite of gold,
so my personality took a toll.
And no matter how much strength I would hold
Nobody liked me,
so I had to fold.

I was left out when I was in grade eight.
Apparently I changed myself too late.
I did everything for everyone
hoping for a clean slate.
Yet I'd already met my fate.
There was no retake,
only resentment and hate.
I needed distraction,
so I started to fill my plate.

Highschool came and on a platter,
was a fresh start.
And for a second I'd thought old me and new me had grown apart.
I made friends like it was an art.
The warm feeling of care
began to fill my heart.
That's when the dead persona came back,
like a poison dart.
And everything I had built, fell apart.