what a shame.
your house isn't my home,
this morning isn't a good one.
when i see you...i don't want to see you.
nothing i did was ever enough,
now this feeling goes both ways.
i'm counting down the days till i can leave this place.
i'm not satisfied with the way you raised me.
it's immature in a way, i'm immature in a way.
i blame you and keep blaming you.
being the quiet child was good back then,
but now i need to entertain you with conversation.
everything you liked about me, i hate it now.
it makes life so hard for me and i hate it all now.
some mornings i wave a white flag,
when i miss having parents i can laugh with.
other mornings, after i've spent the night crying
i can't bring myself to look you.
you won't know, cause you don't listen.
cause you not being the victim is something you can't