Even the dead tell stories

I mean, look at me.

I little whisper of dwindling life,

Draining so slowly.

We live in a world where nobody is okay

“I’m fine” they may say but that’s the only way they can portray without ruining your day and making you ask “is everything okay?”

The truth is that nobody is okay

No one is fine

We put on a mask and try not to whine because in this society people think of that as a crime

And and when we say we’re not fine and try to chime in that WE AREN’T ALRIGHT

All you have to tell us is that it’s all in our minds!

I live every day in enormous amounts of pain

The pain and the shame that weighs down so hard that to lift it would need a crane

2,000 people see me as who they want to be

But that’s only because of the fact that I don’t let them see

They think I’m the shit!

A role model!

A celebrity!

They don’t know anything about me!

They don’t know about the thoughts that keep me from sleep!

Or the tears that I cry when I lie awake.

The way I can’t decide what’s real and what’s fake!

Even the dead can tell stories!

Just fucking look at me!

The only thing left is a damn memory!