It's really just a simple brushstroke
A happy masquerade
You think of how strong you are
And paste it on your face
You try not to act like
Blood's sticking to the underside of your shirt
And that you weren't just cursing yourself
Becuause she got there first
And you act like its all fine, it's all good
That you aren't being tortured
As much as you should
That you aren't devestatingly lonely
And your trashed heart isn't broken
You smear this act
This pointless coat of paint across your skin
Like everything is fine