Your appearance is pretty in every way
Nice smile, kind words, kind eyes
seeming as though you could never cause dismay
But the truth is that you twist your truth
So that you and those around can believe a lie
For only when you cut through the cloth of appearance
that’s when you can see what is inside

Therefore you dull every blade that comes near
Never let people get close, and deny anything you hear
For even if the words are true and things come to light
On them alone is the blame so that you can stay in the right

Where actions are not done than words are not said
And even if disproved the impact is shallow
For you know who you are, what you did, and can leave the lies as lies
Only the truth can penetrate the cloth, cut deep, and leave one rattled

So I ask you one question, at what point does it end?
I would rather be with someone who is perfectly imperfect
Than someone who hides themselves to obtain protected perfection