When I was little, you were right behind me, pushing me all the way.
You said, "You can be anything you want to be."
Little did I know, you were lying. I try and I try to please you.
I go out of my way to get your attention, to get one measely compliment.
But no, you can't even grant me that.
Nothing I ever do is ever good enough for you.
You say that I won't make anything of my life.
Maybe I should just stop trying.
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