Even if I smile, I'm not happy
I sometimes wish I was born different
I could never be good enough
So yea, I cut
All these expectations
Are way larger than me and you
Those stares you give me cut through me like knives
So yea, I cry
This person you see
It isn't me
It's what you want me to be
You'll never know the real me
So yea, I hide
There's a voice screaming give up
and another saying not to
Which should I listen to
because death sounds welcoming
So yea, I'm suicidal
©jacquie
J