Is it nice being you, knowing all but saying
n o t h i n g?

Is it nice being you, doing well in school,
not having a care in the world about emotions?

Is it nice being you, being ignorant of
the amount of pain you cause me with everyday
going unchanged?

Is it nice being you, having the ******* privilege
of the fifth amendment, having the option to not
use your words?

Must be nice being you.

Do you know that everytime you look at me
my heart feels like it's been stabbed with
a needle -- small enough to make an impact but
not a permanent scar?


You probably don't know that I've cried. You probably don't know that I hope for interaction everyday, that I dread things like pretending it's all okay.

With every joke you make, every pathetic attempt
to ignore reality, you hurt me more and more,
because I don't have an option for words; I can only stay silent now.

It must be nice being you.