I feel like your smiles are all
Lies, and that you secretly hate
Behind that mask which you
Use to cove the glances
Of myself to the others when
I look away

I feel like I am the flower at the bottom
Of the bench, you'd rather pick the
One at the top, because they keep
A much more beautiful
Company

I feel like I am your second choice
When your Boredom tells you
You're desperate enough