I sit, staring at the ceiling,
Just thinking about my life
About all my feelings,
Just twiddling a knife.
People claim they know me
But how can they?
My closest friend doesn’t,
Nobody does, not even me.
If they really did
Wouldn’t they see past this fake smile?
Wouldn’t they realize?
I can’t be happy 24/7, of my life
So if what they claim is true
They would have seen my pain
Even seen my scars
Even notice that I’m turning insane
But instead, they just see
The happy gal I claim to be
A gal with the perfect life
But it’s all fake, my whole life
