Words

They say I write beautifully, they say I am smart
why do I feel like a failure
like I'm betraying myself for writing what's in my heart
these feelings aren't special, these thoughts invade my mind
and I'm so tired of trying to figure out why I'm the outsider
that's what I feel all the time
I want to be accepted but I think I have too many flaws
too many imperfections, is this the cause?
people they tell me that they wish they were me
but why would they want something that isn't free
I'm a prisoner of my worries
captured by the pain
I'm convicted of my insecurities
always wondering through disdain
I hate to seem like a drama queen
but if that's what I am, then I am
I'll be that way forever, because this is how I've always been.