Whatever's good about it
I can't truly appreciate because I am consumed by a fear
Of losing it all
Of waking up one day and realising
None of those things had ever been mine
And whatever's bad about it?
Whatever's missing?
My mind uses it as ammo against me
You are useless because of that one thing you got wrong
No one will ever find you attractive. You are never enough
Pathetic really, that you still hope and yearn
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