The pressure of being what you want is immensely difficult for me to handle.
My brain wants to implode.
My heart is crying out for some stability.
The disappointment some of you now find in me, makes my soul weak.
My smile shows no emotion,
But my eyes show so much pain.
Why do you hurt me?
Will the pain ever stop?
The scoldings, the pressure, the ridiculing, must come to an end.