It’s not you, it is everything.
It’s the past, it’s the future,
it’s the moments in between.
It’s the invisible weight bearing down.
The fake smiles to hide the hurt.
The battles that can never be won.
Round and round, the restless feeling
where you’re constantly trying.
Battling, flailing, fighting, surviving.
What is there left to give?
What is left inside of me?
What is left of me?
Be strong, little dear, for you have so much more to see.