The illusion that all is perfect
Takes some time to build.
Fear of wasted potential,
A prophecy unfulfilled.
It takes a fate that fractures,
It takes a soul that screams,
It takes a mind that mixes
All the worst of the extremes.
You see, she has no reason
Her life seems quite okay.
Save some spoiled child’s complaints,
The world is kept at bay.
She sees none of the suffering
Plated gold, safety’s sold
That lies beyond the gate
And served on a silver plate.
But the suffering lies within her,
That no one else could see
And threatens her perfection more
Than anyone could believe.
So she picks up all the pieces,
She holds them in her arms
She tries her best to undo
At least a little of the harm.
Not the harm to herself,
She didn’t mind her scars,
But she hoped to god no one would see
How much she fell apart.
For nothing’s wrong and all is nice
To the outsider looking in
And if she could admit otherwise
She didn’t know where to begin.
All the while ask her nicely
How she really feels,
Her answer would seem perfect,
But no shot in hell it’s real.