• They try to tell me how i am supposed to be,
    Who i am supposed to be,
    Something thats not up to them.
    Completely up to me.

    I hear them talking everyday,
    Discussing what a screw-up i am,
    Asking themselves what went wrong.
    Like who i am is up to them.

    I dont see whats wrong with me,
    I'm not a addict or an stereotype,
    I guess im just another girl who cries,
    Whose tears your too 'proper' to wipe.

    They think that they know everything,
    About their little girl,
    But if they know the half of it,
    Their lives would unfurl.

    I might be a little loud sometimes,
    But my secrets are kept quiet,
    Many things you do not know:
    Cutting, Failure, Drastic Diet...