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She drinks water from a cup she hasn’t washed in a week
She used up her parents pockets until they asked her to leave
She works seven hours a day eight days a week
Used her paychecks on concerts she couldn’t wait to see
Struggling day to day but life hasn’t made her weak
She craves love but no one stays to listen to her speak
So her voice gets quieter as the time passes by
She takes herself to the mountains to dream and cry
Life isn’t fair but she’s determined to break the mold
Or what she can until or if she gets grey and old
Didn’t think she’d make it this far with her bipolar moods
She’s doing okay for herself as long as she takes her pills
Dependent on them just as she is her friends
Can’t go through life alone but never wants her alone time to end
She’s a confusing mess of unpredicted distance
Will she leave physically or let herself go missing?
Listens to music that leaves others concerned
Her existence feels less than truly earned
Is she really meant to be on this Earth
Or is she merely here because a god couldn’t think of something better first
But god doesn’t exist, we are our own universe
Hers, she’s trying to fix but her luck is the worst
Or is she just blind to how good she has it
She feels as if she’s always running out of time and thus causes havoc
There’s people that adore her and all of her savage
Yet she politely ignores them, and continues her addicts
She’s consequently charismatic because it gets her what she wants
But once she’s got everything she gets bored and craves to feel lost
It’s a never ending cycle but she’s never giving up
Just wish she’d cherish what she’s had all along