Oh, the stories we tell ourselves to make
us feel okay, to alleviate the blame.
But under the surface, deep down in the spot
from which your strengths bleed you know
it wasn’t them who didn’t do enough for you.
It was you who didn’t love yourself.
They weren’t trying to knock you down,
you just didn’t know which ladder to climb.
It wasn’t them that made you not good enough
it was your own insecurities that ate you up inside.
And now it’s not them stopping you from moving
past the dead point. It’s your fear of facing
yourself and your mistakes. It was always you.
It’s still you. It will always be you.
