Tell me to wake up,
I beg of you to tell me this is not my reality.
You expect me to work until my bones cannot take my weight,
Are you for real?
Why must my existence be defined by the quality of my work?
I cannot sprint for the trophy,
Or reach the star grades,
Let alone find a passion.
If I can’t do that, can I do anything?
I can be told that this is the truth,
But are you sure there isn’t more?
You can tell me that I have it easy in my youth, but my age burdens me.
You can tell me that I will understand when I am older, but I am not willing to be ignorant.
You can tell me that I will figure out what I want soon, but I must make my choices that will define my future now.
Why must you expect so much of me?
Do you see these overachievers on your screen and believe every lie they feed you,
Because you are starved?
Have I underwhelmed you that much that you cannot even see,
How much agony these stories cause me?
Each time you compare me to the beauties you so desperately crave,
I feel drowned in a bottomless barrel of acid.
It melts each inch of not only my skin, but my confidence too.
They use each speck of suffering to fuel their insatiable engines,
Our pain is their only source of power.
Why do you allow yourself to be brainwashed,
Are you for real?