the other day, I borrowed the face of a happy man,
it helped me get through the day, for that there's no doubt.
when outside, it didn't wash off, not even with rain
yet when I got home, it came off quickly, but not without pain.

I feel empty without it, a husk of a being,
and it gets harder to put on with each coming day.
it begins to feel stolen, no longer borrowed, it must be said,
I put on a brave face, whilst on the inside, I am dead.

I sometimes wish people would only know my true face,
I wonder if they would still like me, or think me a disgrace.
I wish I didn't have to borrow the face, to keep on going,
but I won't stop wearing it, to keep them from knowing.