I wish someone could read my face sometimes,
see through the lies that say 'I'm fine'.
When all is said and done
we walk away and the door is shut;
that's when the tears start to come.
What people don't understand
is that my mind is like a barricade:
the panic is worse when I admit I'm not okay
so keep my mouth shut,
scared of a repeat from the past...
As the days go passing by
and all I seem to have done is cry,
behind closed doors i'm scared of myself,
knowing I'm too much
and never going to be good enough