Look at me.
Am I not to feel the pain just because the importance behind my name?
Am I supposed to cry for my feeling belong hidden far beyond my pride?
The public eye pokes at my life as if I'm already dead
Records how many hours I spend in my bed.
My dreams no longer my own I had to pay society to get time alone.
Just moments to blink to realize that I let my thoughts drowned in sorrow
No solid ground to stand upon so my fingers grip the sides of death and life.
WAking up to days unable to keep track of the time for every clock
eyes connect to the hands are far behind the correct amount
Only thing increasing is my bank account.
The dollar signs more than success
their presence are the reasons for her stress.
Unable to understand her life just yet she sinks into the piles of cash
and gives the public a smile as if only expression I can express.
The world can never know I posses a silly emotion like stress.