The pressure to be perfect never stops.
Suffocation creeps over my body,
Walking down the hallway as my head drops,
The popular girls are nothing but snotty.
Coming home, the nagging reaches my boiling point;
My temper flares into a violent rampage.
Whatever I do I just disappoint?
My mind and body are full of rage,
Nitpick through my imperfect life.
No matter how hard I try, nothings well enough,
You might as well just cut me with a knife.
I’m fragile but I act like I’m tough.
Face it; I’ll never be your perfect little girl,
Go ahead; you try to give it a whirl.