Little me
Would she be proud of me?
Do I want her to be proud of me?
And then I realized, I actually don’t really know a lot about myself,
Ever since I can remember I wanted to be somebody else.
I don’t know much about her,
All we share is the sadness in our heart,
Threatening to break us apart.
All the tears that rolled down our cheeks,
All the words we didn’t dare to speak .
Little me, you could say is a mystery,
But I don’t think she is quiet yet history.
After all the endless examinations,
She never changed her expectations.
See her reflection in the glass wall clearer than ever,
Letting go of the disappointment I fear I can never.
Does she even deserve to be loved,
I only remember her, from other people being shoved.
Neither do I have the compassion to accept her,
Still am the same, as we once were.
I suppose that she has never left,
And maybe that is for the best.
