I didn't decide to be insecure and weak,
it's just the cards I've been dealt.
I used to know how to stand and speak,
but whenever I did, I'd receive a welt.
Now I'm scared to stand at all;
I'm so afraid to even talk to you,
so buried beneath my comfort wall,
I only have room to let the hate through.
Permanent bruises cover all my skin
from times I fought to have my say.
I quickly learned to live within
and keep to myself, in every way.
People have beat me, ***** me, fought me,
scarred me, changed me, lied to me,
insulted me, trapped me, manipulated me;
so it makes sense this is how I came to be.
So tired of being told I'll be accepted,
loved, desired, cherished, or adored,
when over time, all I am is rejected,
misunderstood, disregarded, and ignored.
I keep telling myself I'm better than this,
but I can't stop history from repeating.
I can tell how ignorance would be bliss,
but it's not easy to ignore the deceiving.
There's nothing to stop me from walking away,
except my lack of ambition to be alone.
I'd rather sit quietly and never convey
these feelings that turn me to stone.
There's no prince in shining armor
that will rescue me from my strife;
there's no man who's a genuine charmer
that's going to try and change my life.
Given the genes of a manic depressive,
and put through the wringer time and time,
it's no wonder my thoughts have grown aggressive;
I wasn't born with the strength to be fine.