don't show her - she wouldn't like it,
don't say that - he'll disagree,
“it looks great” now means discard it,
we tell lies to keep the peace.

can we call this peace at all?
all we know is a facade,
trust is short when tales are tall,
social lives now fake and sad.

why destroy what we have made?
why must we critique ourselves?
can we let precaution fade?
the need to tiptoe overwhelms.

for harmony we make a trade,
we all show but no one tells.

please refuse to be afraid,
walk on air and not eggshells