I paint my face with tears
because I don't want to wipe them away.
I don't want to vanish my pain
and save it for another day.
I don't want to be known as my pain
but I am my pain.

My pain is the glossy finish
that my tears leave on my face.
My pain is what covers me.
My pain is what you see right through
'cause its clearer than cellophane

What if I don't like the sticky feel my tears leave behind?
What if I don't like the shame my pain brings along?

My pain is the scream into both ears that keeps me up at night.
Its the rush in my arms that makes me stab myself when dark.

Maybe if it wasn't dark you would see the red my eyes show;
crying out to you,
wishing you'll know about the pain that took me.

But when the light shines bright I spread my pain clear
like the armor to protect me,
or more likely it's my shield to hide behind.

But sometimes I shut my eyes
and they forget to reopen
and I just lie there
because maybe I don't want them to.