wasn’t good enough

oh i'm not to well at being myself
cover up my brown eyes so nobody can see into my
black soul (its a mess, i know)
and piecing it all back together is tough
i've been knocked down so many times
and it hurts it hurts
but i’ve pulled through yet
i haven’t developed to much on
being myself
i try to act
n a r c i s s i s t i c
like the rest of you
(mirror mirror
am i pretty yet?)
but underneath this little
mask
(masquerade, i prefer
so much prettier)
i’m falling apart because i
hate hate hate
stereotype
yet that’s exactly what i'm
BECOMING isn’t it
every day i can see where i
dropped another part of me
and i’m becoming
more more more
like those
harlequin girls
dancing around in their
flashy clothes
(is this really all my life should
consist of; i swear i was worth more)