Nothing's good enough,
and nothing will ever be.
I'm not the little girl,
I used to be.
But what you don't understand
is that slowly, I'm dying, and I'm happy.
Picture perfect fake.
I'm not like that.
I have no one to confess to but you
the cuts across my wrists are real.
but the perfect daughter cannot exist.
and if it does, its so not me.
and could never be.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wow such emotion nice i really enjoyed this poem you speak from the heart