I'm not your little angel,
And I'm not your perfect kid,
I'm flawed, I'm different, I'm human,
What makes you think I can handle this?
I can't be your puppet,
I can't grow up to be like you.
Is this really the life, the future
That I have to bullshit my way through?
I'm stuck behind my expectations,
Buried in my work.
Piled high with hopes and dreams,
Knocked down for what's thought good.
I wish I could be what you wanted.
I wish I could see you smile.
But when I take one struggling, hopeless step,
You push me back a mile.
Dont tell me that it's for my future,
Because that's a used excuse.
This time, the effort is all just wasted,
A new form of life abuse.
What the hell makes you think I like this?
Why can't I be myself?
You're buried under a broken vision:
That I can be something else.
