I’m surrounded by fakes;
People who think and feel,
but hide who the are underneath dirt and societies ideas.
People who try and fail
to become what they think they should be.
We wake up in the morning and cry,
For we are a disappointment.
We realize we aren’t perfect,
Yet we strive for perfection.
In this vicious cycle called life,
You envy someone,
They envy someone else,
And around it goes till we’re six feet under.
Even when we die,
We aren’t exactly sure who we are as people.
We hide behind masks,
And show our true colors to few.