We are too busy searching through eachothers souls like we do in our rooms, to find the secrets we are hiding and let them be known. Little do they know the secrets come out in the actions we do and words we speak. Everywhere i look i see the scars beneath the smiles, the im fine. We spend every minute of our sad lives pretending.
I was pretending when i told you that i wasnt disappointed you crossed the line. Ive lied every minute to you telling you i had the illness under lock and key, i had finally put a leash on him and told him goodbye. The pain we feel inside is not metaphorical, its real. Its not all in our mind. You can see it every time i try to hide my skin. Or every tear i shed. I am a broken record, i say that proudly no fear my audience will get sick of me i am simply a musician playing my heartbroke melody for all to hear. I no longer lurk in shadows hiding my sins they are written in my eyes and among the stars my body lies. I made my choices and i live with the remorse and painful reminder everyday.  They are too busy searching in my room to find my innocence under my bed and the lies carved into the walls to ever notice the me that slipped through their fingers.