I always liked nice things
Didn't understand why, just knew I wanted to live like princesses or kings
I realized at a young age that no one was gonna get them for me but me
Started babysitting children as many as three
Got a retail job at sixteen
Figured out quickly life was just a smoke screen
Been working ever since
Thought I'd found my prince
I tried so hard to believe
But I was deceived
At twenty two decided to go back to post secondary school .
I worked two jobs,  and lived on my own.
Ventured out to the combat zone
Have drive and ambition
Things that are admired in men but
Feared and condemned in women
I now live in a beautiful home,  drive a luxury vechile and have a high paying job
After all these years I still like the finer things in life
But I have realized the one and only thing I have ever wanted was to belong

If i cut open my insides and looked at my heart
Im having a feeling that it would be struggling to pump blood
I think it would be black and blue and oozing a thick substance
If i cut open my wrists
And peered inside
I think that all of my insecrities would spill out
All my problems and things i bottle up would all run loose
And i would lie there motionless
Because i have no happiness
All i live off of is my depression and tears
And now they are free and so am i
If i cut open my brain
And took a walk inside
I believe i would find lots of horrifying and gory things
I would find memories about myself fanasizing over suicide
Find memories of slitting open my wrist three inches wide
Find memories of endless tearfilled nights
I think i would begin to discover that i might really be dying
Or going insane
Or possibliy both
Becuzz what kind of person dwells in agonizing depression
And loaths in non existant happiness
A person that talks to herself for companionship
A person that would be more than willing to jump out of a moving vechile
With tiny children present
A lunatic broken person that who