Life Is Not a Bed of Roses

Didn't they tell you that growing up was going to be an injustice? The picture we paint in our heads about life grows dim, It's as though depression was in shipping for eighteen years and finally arrived at our doors, The only person we have is our shadows, And even in the darkest times it disappears and leave us, If I had known this earlier, I would've stayed in my mother's womb, Because even after the age of two the responsibility got too heavy, And as each birthday rolled along, it was as if I was receiving a next box to hold on my back to hold me back, And no, I'm not talking about gifts here, I never felt like it was a gift being here, And I'm happy for you if you beg to disagree, I'm happy for you if you still dream, And I'm happy for you if your life is a bed of roses, But if you only walk in my room and happen to lie on my bed, Then you'll realize that my garden wasn't given the same love and affection as yours, My garden probably wasn't watered everyday, My bed of roses refused to grow, And all I'm stuck with are corpse flowers and weeds. (Accepting Critics) :)