My picture perfect family is just that: picture perfect.

And as the photograph crumbles, a worsted situation than true hedonism exists.
Disguised- scapegoated. I'm too tired to care.
Just put it down to my fault.
I don't want to argue my side of things anymore.
You can tell me I'm this that and the other
and say you didn't mean to put me down,
say it's my fault I don't love enough.
I don't know how.
I don't know how.
If i am deficient in some way,
I need help finding out where.