I am my own enemy

I give myself the hate

The look of jealousy

Is the shit that I create

Those who tried to show clarity

Are the ones who tell me about my weight

Knowing about my poor mentally

No wonder I can’t get my shit straight

How many times will I go to therapy

It’s like I don’t know my own fate

When little girls talk of pregnancy

I’m thinking about “when am I gonna be great?”

Knowing that my depression makes me deadly

Will I make statics have a higher rate?

Thinking about my struggling identity

Will this wait?