I have this thing where they think I\'m smart, but i think I\'m dumb.
I tend to feel like a peasant or a slum.
I see a picture of myself, and I\'ll stop eating.
I\'m always the one who gets the beating.
There\'s no way to avoid it\'s progression,
so I\'ll pace in the dark with my depression.
For night he leaves, I\'ll be the one to blame.
Forever, I\'ll be running in my brain\'s deadly flame.
If I try too hard, I\'m seen as a stupid girl.
But when I\'m myself, I never enough for the world.
I\'ll always stare at the sun before a mirror.
Perhaps that\'s why I see my flaws so clearer.
I\'m weak for being quiet, I\'m dramatic for speaking up.
Maybe if I was a boy, I wouldn\'t be thrown out like a plastic cup.
Forever, I\'ll be criticized for being so lame.
Even if it\'s just said by my brain\'s deadly flame.