im a mess.

You call me pretty, and you call me perfect.

But am i pretty when i ugly cry myself to sleep most nights?

Am i perfect when i go to therapy once a week because i "need a little help?"

NO! because im a mess.

You say im talented, and i can do anything.

But am i talented when i practice for five minutes and give up because 

"im just not good enough?"

Can i really do anything when i quit everything?

NO! because im a mess

Im a sad,depressed blackhole of destruction 

with a broken soul.

Im broken and alone.

And im not pretty,

im not perfect'

im not talented, 

and i cant do anything. 

Because im a mess.