I sit in my throne of gold

Putting myself on a pedestal because I'm too weak to stand on my own

But I won't show that.

I strut around

Head high but morale low

I pretend to be better than everyone when in reality I'm nothing but the crown of tin foil I sat upon my own head.

My haughty facade masking my internal hatred.

"Surely I must be better than everyone,
If I’m not perfect then I’m not myself"

In fact, I'm nothing without my confident exterior.

My pedestal builds every day

separating me from reality and the comfort of friends and the reassurance of knowing you're not alone.

It's lonely at the top

But I suppose I'd rather be lonely than at the bottom

To be honest I’m nothing but a scared little girl in a king's robe and a throne too big

But I’ll keep up the image that I’m better than life itself, what else would I do?