All you do is criticize my writing,
Asking “Why is it so depressing?”
Maybe because I am depressed,
Ever thought of that?
No of course not.
All you do is deny anything is wrong,
Turning a cold shoulder to my problems
And you wonder why I’m not open with you.
You’re endlessly jealous
Of the only person that ever cared for me,
Telling me he’s not good enough
Though you never tried harder.