Never have I asked before
    How to feel no more.
I thought you wanted me to be happy
    But that's just another lie
Happiness is a lie.
    Like the stories we spin to make ourselves comfortable
Your love is a lie.
    Everything is a lie, nothing is real.
Everything is pain and greed.
    We paint pictures of unicorns and rainbows
Of true love and joy.
    But it's all a lie.

You are the gravity to my black hole
Without you, I'd spin out of control
You're the moon to my wolf
Without you, there would be no light in the dark
I need you in my life before I drown in my strife
The perfect Yin to my Yang
The perfect balance to keep me grounded

When the rest of the cruel world has left me for dead
Down into the deep abyss will I go
They have made my bed to lie upon
But I will not dare to stoop so low
As to accept what They The People decide is correct
I will not accept your falsities
My life is already wrecked
Ruined by your "niceties"
But it is too late.
I will return from the trench
I do not accept my fate
To be beaten down by the world

Strength comes from the soul
     It is not given
Strength can only be found
     During the darkest of nights
At a time when colors blend together
     It is gained when a person realizes
The simple truth
     Keep moving.
     The pain won't last till the morning
     light
     You can and will rise above
Find your strength to get up off the ground
Push forward because
Somewhere.
Sometime.
Somehow.
     You are loved.
     You are worthy.
     You are strong.

We hide behind the illusion of the words
"I'm okay."
Silently hating ourselves for waiting for the phone to ring so we can know we aren't alone.
Pretending to be alright when we need a hand to lift us out of the grey misery of our lives.
Imagine that. Illusionists pretending to be okay, but no one thinks the irony to be true

Pretend.
Put on a mask every day and never let it fail

Crimson colors fall to the ground
Shattered they lay turning to a melancholy faded grey
Reliving the deaths of all once again
Fallen, drifting across the bare floor
Forgotten.
A hand comes from nowhere to pick up the pieces of something once beautiful
Slowly the hand fits the shards together
But it is too late
So, yet again they lay on the ground.
Fallen