I’m just a product
Of all the trauma,
You raised me this way,
Carry some blame,
Cause I’m holding the shame.

Messy rooms,
Unmade beds,
Dry showers,
Crusted plates.

I’m just romanticized,
You can fix me, I’ll be a prize,
And you’ll hug me and love me,
Till the next time I die.

Messy rooms,
Unmade beds,
Dry showers,
Crusted plates.

I can’t see my floor, anymore,
My room is becoming my tomb,
Just wait I’ll be out soon,
And you’ll see my rat’s nest,
Of disgrace and unrest.