Again, I am alone, betrayed by so-called friends,
Who tell me I'm not worth it, that I'm ugly, that my hair is full of split-ends.
So here I am again,
Without even one true friend.
I give and give,
They take and take.
Is there one real friend in this world that I can make?
Obviously not because no matter who I take under my wing as my friend,
I always end up used again.
As days go by under the rising sun,
I remain the side friend, never to become number one.
Used again, tears stream down my face,
And yet my great sorrow fails to help my case.
So now, in my personal hell, without a single true friend,
I cry alone, for I've been used again.
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