I'm not your son anymore,
not your pride and your joy,
not your kid on on your shoulders.
Not the fairy floss at  carnivals
Not the tickling before bed,
I'm past your dead story times
I see your vile stare in your eyes,
and please don't pretend otherwise
but the truth is I do no care anyway,
I  lost  my passion to live every waking day.,

This grey day
I have not even my shadow
for company

Please tell me the ending is good—
I don’t want to get lost.
I feel trapped in a wood
I don't know the path of


The voices whisper,
“Follow the glowing lights,”
but there’s nothing in sight—
just imposters dressed in white,
waiting to catch me
when I’m too tired to fight.

And believe me, I’m tired.
Nothing gets me inspired
I don’t even recognize the girl in the mirror.

Each morning, I stand,
staring at her silhouette—
thinner,
slimmer.
I linger on her figure and wonder,
“Did I wrong her?
She deserved so much more.”

But no one sees that.
So, I play along,
pretending to be strong—
like I’ve done for so long,
just to belong.

Please tell me the ending is good.
Because if it’s not,
I’ll have to build a house
in the woods