Every day is war to me,
A struggle to obtain reality.
A shower, my make-up, putting on my shoes.
It’s hard to see the point some days,
And no one has a clue.
I have been deemed so many things,
by those who wouldn’t know.
High maintenance, a worrier,
A girl putting on a show.
I’ve been trained to feel unworthy,
Ugly and hard to love.
The pills, they make me tired,
but I get by just enough.
Sometimes I feel that I’m one mistake
from losing all I’ve suffered for.
While every day is a success,
I am tired of my war!