I find it hard to peep out of this shell,
constantly under this microscope.
And all these people think they know me so well,
cutting me no slack and leaving me no hope.
I wonder how I've survived these years,
being judged for what I'm not.
I wonder how I've swam through all these tears,
and yet to the surface I haven't got.
I can't seem to get out of all this judgement,
these people find happiness in my pain.
And for some reason I just put up with it,
and through my anguish they have their gain.
I'm not what you dream or want me to be,
Yet I don't have the courage to walk out of this door.
This face is merely just a cover of me,
and I want you to know that I can't take it anymore.
"Why is your hair always on your face?"
"Why can't you get rid of that attitude?"
"Don't you see you bring so much disgrace?"
"Why don't you try eating some food?"
My hair is my hair,
and I like it in my face.
Without it I'm bare and it's utterly unfair,
that you're open haired daughter roams around this place.
You pretend like you care,
and that I'm like you're daughter.
And when my mother's there,
you constantly lie at her.
"I'll take care of her",
"Don't you worry just go".
I feel sorry for your daughter,
atleast in her your genes don't show.
I'm surrounded by plastic,
Iron, silver and Gold.
Yet they will all melt and stick,
and I'm the only coal.
I'm the only coal,
amongst this ocean of fake.
This horrible difference takes a toll,
once the fake people surface the lake.
