I'm not good enough,
I often say to myself.
Broken and torn,
Like an old forgotten book on a shelf.

Looking in a mirror,
And seeing only imperfection.
Often wanting to cry,
As I stand and stare at my reflection.

I am filled with sadness,
Hopelessness and self hate.
People tell me not to judge,
Little do they know that's it's already too late.

I hate everything
What I have become,
Is not good enough,
For me and to some.

Some doctors say it's a mental illness,
Maybe it was a curse.
For me to think of myself so badly,
And think I couldn't be any worse.