“She’s sleeping til noon every day
With a mood that’s always gray”
Is what her mother says
While rolling her eyes
Piles of laundry,
Countless dishes
In her messy room

But hidden beneath
The laziness her mother sees
Is the reason why she always sleeps
She’s tired.
Tired of living
Tired of fighting
Tired of pretending
Tired of everything

Her mother is wondering
Why there’s always an empty seat
Where her daughter is supposed to be
But she never dares to ask
Just scrapes her daughter’s untouched plate

Then one night
Over a bridge so high
She lets out her final sigh
Before letting go of everything
The only thing that’s left from her
Is a note
A note written by shaking hands
A note soaked in teardrops
A note written to her mother

“Lazy is what you called me.
You never asked why I couldn’t move
You never asked why I was hiding all the time
You never asked why I was so tired all the time
And now you know why.”

Now her mother won’t complain
About a messy room ever again
She doesn’t even dare to enter her daughter’s bedroom
She would give anything
To hear that tired voice
Just once again