I'm tired,
I'm tired of being sick and tired,
Yes I once was a little girl,
and yes I have made mistakes,
but this person I know now Knows happiness not,
I know I'll never be what they want me to be,
or how they imagined I would be,
I'm different,
I accept that why can't they,
Crying and thinking seem to be what I find my-self doing these days,its not out of self pitty as they say, it's really all I can manage with out loosing it all to rage,
My sanity lyes in my own hands now,
They don't care,
No one has ever cared,
So I sit there with my back on the wall waiting for any and everything to happen,
In and out of days it gets worse,
No one to talk to,
no one to laugh with,
It feels as if I've been put in a room with whit padding,
Alone, Disscused with myself and what I've become,
one things for sure though,
if I am what they want me to be,
then I will for sure be claimed to insanity and misery combined,
and if I am truley me,
Every one will leave me,
Still this choice leaves me;
Insain, and in misery