Sometimes all you do, is yell at me and cry. And I'm not quite sure, if I don't know why.
I think you want, what you can't get a daughter, in all ways, perfect.
You're mad that I, don't do it all. You don't seem to realize It's not possible!
You tell me I am "nothing". How can that be true. Everyone is something I am too.
I read and write. I'm good and true How can you think, I'm not good enough for you?
All you ever think about Is what others see. Sometimes I just wish, you could "see" me!