You wear a phoney facade,
A persona you dress in to please people.
You wash it from time to time,
When it gets worn out and greasy.
Tossing it into the laundry,
And cleansing it so it can conform to what people fleetingly demand from you.
You’re a people pleaser honey,
You crave the gratification from others,
Because you so desperately want them to like you.
In your wardrobe rests hundreds of clothes hangers,
Holding dozens of prepared outfits.
Turn them topsy-turvy and you’ll find,
A dozen set disguises.
So many different getups,
For so many different occasions,
A get-together friends party,
Having dinner with family,
And when you’re hanging out with the cool clique.
You’re constantly swapping masks,
When bumping into new people,
Each crowd craving something distinct from you.
All your clothes contain a hue of sky blue,
Even though you resent the tint of blue.
You flaunt it as your favourite colour to conceal your true shades,
You love a splash of rosy pink but blue is ultimately cooler,
So blue is your favourite colour.
When nightfall draws near after a tiresome day of pleasing people,
You carefully fold your laundry.
Vigilantly so the fabric doesn’t rip from your facades,
Because you care a lot about what people think of you.
Settled amongst your laundry and within your closet,
Is a society of countless unique individuals,
But none of them are you.