You say you love me.
When I am the child that seeming knows everything.
The child that always does good.
The child that tries oh so hard to impress you.
But I fail.
I fail at one thing and despretly need help, I fail because I always seem to go to you.
I fail because when I need you on my side, you're on the other side delivering the final blow.
Why do I prefer my friends?
They help me.
They don't kill me.
You wonder why I am always happy and never seem to do anything?
Because I'm what they call humble.
I don't have a problem.
I can't have a problem.
I'm the smart child.
I'm the one who can't do something.
I need help.
I'm not used to needing help.
You call me stubborn.
I say that its hard.
That I may change.
You call me a failure that runs from every challenge I face.
You prove to me that the saltiest thing on earth are my own tears.
My own tears that run like a burst dam.
You call me weak and yell louder.
I need you on my side.
Why do you have to break me down?
You hate me.