I like my humour, eyes and style.
I love my nails, weight and smile.
I adore my hair, my body and my mind.
But when I\'m with you,
there\'s no happiness to find.
It\'s nothing you do in particular,
yet something I can sense from afar.
It\'s a skill-issue of mine
that I swim in self-pity and lose my shine.
Basically just another song of misery,
that I let my self drown in my own injury.
I guess it\'s just not supposed to heal,
and it will continue to eat me up,
as if I was their favourite meal.
Because I tend to forget that it\'s my own problem,
and my own bad.
And not her fault, that I\'m so fucking sad.