You say he’s the victim
and I’m not right.
That I’m the instigator, evildoer,
That I started the fight.

You try and try
to heal his wounds,
but, what about me?

This depression, frustration,
it builds up inside me.
My momma just wants
to ball up and hide me.

Yet you try and try
to heal his wounds,
but, what about me?

My momma can’t care for me.
My dad left when I was small.
School is the place
where I can feel bigger, overall.

But you still try and try,
To heal his wounds.
But please, don’t forget about me.

These principals, counselors,
They couldn’t care less.
I try to talk about my issues,
but they say, “You give me too much stress!”

And you try and try
to heal his wounds,
leaving behind, me.

He needed to know how it felt,
just for one day.
To be small and miserable,
and to live this way.

Why do you try and try,
to heal his wounds
…..but not me.