Tell me, my dear,
what keeps you up at night?
Is it the harsh words of your mother—
or the sight of another, more loved daughter?

Tell me, my darling,
what keeps you up at night?
Is it their mocking laughter echoing loud—
Or the whispers that claim how ungrateful and incapable you are?

Tell me, my burnt star,
what haunts your fragile hours?
Is it the realisation of never being enough—
Or the aching wish to feel alive?