Why do you hate me?
Why don't you appreciate me?
Why are you hurting me?
Am I not worth it?

It really hurts that—
I'm no ones favorite.
None of you admire—
me and my works.

I spend the day faking a smile
and spend the night crying.
I wonder why I'm still here—
living but feeling dead inside.

Why do I need to suffer all of these?
Do I really need to?
I'm so tired, really dreary.
It's over, I lost in this battle.