It creeps upon you like a dark, twisted fog
You can’t see through it, others don’t recognize you
You’re suffocating but you tell yourself:
It’s for the best, when all this smoke is cleared,
Everything will be better
So you sit there and wait for the firemen to rescue you
But they never come
The emptiness inside you is pretty
Everything you’ve always wanted to be is pretty
Beauty is on the inside, that’s what you’ve heard
So that’s where you start to destroy yourself
You think you’re making a difference for the onlookers
But really you’re just killing yourself
Hurting the people around you
They don’t think what you’re doing is pretty
Because all they see is the ugly disease
The black smoke starts to fill your lungs
Making it harder to breathe
You try to reach through the haze, but it’s too late
You see blurred outlines of people, muffled sounds of crys
Why don’t you move? Why don’t you tear yourself from the flames?
Because when you’re not good enough, and you’re looking into the mirror
All you want to be is pretty.