I pretend to feel skinny and pretty
but I know I’m not beautiful or thin
I bleach my hair to cover up the grey
most days I feel fake in all ways

I wear clothes that hide my appeal
want I really want is to be real
I pretend to be an artist and a poet
but my work speaks for itself I know it

I struggle to speak my truth
stolen from me in my youth
Given up my right for basic needs
deeply rooted are her toxic seeds

This facade she created
is someone I have always hated
I’ve spent years peeling back layers
desperate to reveal my true nature

I lost decades cutting her away
razors turned dull the pain didn’t fade
Punishing myself needed to end
in order to survive I cannot pretend

I’m on a journey to uncover
the girl I protected from my mother
Despite her powerful instincts to hide
the woman inside is dying to be alive

In a room full of faces
She was nameless
She was invisible
In a room full of faces
She felt worthless
She was full of emptiness
In a room full of faces
She wish someone would notice
In a room full of faces
Would anyone care if she was gone.

I wanted to write,
But I don't think anyone will care,
And I think that's why-
I don't think I can share.