As she walks through the crowds they whisper and mutter,
'I wish I were her they say'
And all she can do is stagger and stutter
and smile at those in her way.
On the outside she radiates being perfect within,
but her insides are knotted and tied.
They don't know all her thoughts are twisted and dark,
they don't know the last time that she cried.
Perceptions are easy to falsify and fake,
she knows because at that she's a pro.
She can work any room to believe that she's high,
she can work it so they'd never know.
For inside she's screaming and it's aimed at herself.
How could you be so worthless and dim?
You're little miss average, a coaster, a fake,
you can't even make yourself thin.
One day they will see you for all that you are,
a talker, an actress, an oaf.
And then they'll desert you, you'll be left on your own.
The one thing you fear more than most.
So she'll up the facade, she won't let people in,
to her innermost thoughts and fears.
Because she knows she's pathetic and they'll all agree,
that she isn't worth any of their tears.
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