Being forced to watch, and see myself lose,
in front of those wishing it too.
It strained me to express my one true self,
and they laughed to themselves as I asked for help.

So I returned home, back to myself,
with no wave in, to see if I was well.
Shit carries on, I yelled for peace,
although my mind was on repeat.

These restless thoughts, they haunt my nights,
as judgment's whispers dimmed my light.
Sure, they might've thought they knew me,
but only with words they spoke behind me.

I met with myself to look in deeper,
but yep, these boys thought I was a loser.
A loser, maybe, in their empty eyes—
but still, they tugged at the thread I’d grown,
and played with everything I’d carefully sewn.