I’m not good enough.
I know I’m not perfect,
but who is?
You paint with a broad brush,
making me appear unlikable.
I don’t need any help with that.
I already have low self-esteem
and despite the fact that it seems
everything is going wrong in my life,
you rub salt in the wound.
You turn everything around
when you’re the one who’s
not good enough.
You’re the reason I am this way.
You are why I can’t look
myself in the mirror sometimes,
why I cry myself to sleep
hoping I don’t wake up.