Many days of the week
I cry myself to sleep,
Instead of counting sheep.
I sit in my room and mourn,
I wonder why i was even born.
One minute im happy,
The next I feel all crappy.
I guess I'm just depressed
And overwhelmed with stress.
No one understands!
I don’t like taking demands!
I hate being told what to do,
Like I don’t have a clue.
Every night my pillow is wet with tears
And soaks up all my fears.
Until the next day,
When I lay down to pray
And cry myself to sleep
Instead of counting sheep.

 
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