I’m sick of you saying it’s all about me,
When you’re the one who thinks only of yourself.
Ten months and eight days, I’m legally free.
You can’t hold me back anymore.
How have I made it a whole 17 years?
I’ve been nothing but good, aside from an attitude.
I don’t sneak out or smoke, or drink any beers.
I would rather be found dead.
No longer am I in this bind.
Throw me in my life-long bed.
Happiness, I will then find.
It’s my only way out.
My door to escape.
Death it shall be, destined or fate.
What did I do to be treated this way?
I have no one to talk to, no where to turn.
To finally be free, my heart so desperately yearns.
Written by: Stevi Balsamo
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