Everything I do
Everything I say
Never seems to be enough
To keep your mind at bay.
Why must you expect more from me,
than what I have to offer you?
Why is it that, you, my mother,
cannot be one of the few:
that excepts me for me,
that I can talk to,
that loves me unconditionally,
that I can laugh with?
But I'm always too weird,
I can't do anything right,
What is wrong with me,
that hides me from your sight?
*This is all I have. Feel free to comment; this was just written by the way, it's been a hectic evening.*
