Life is a short lived celebration,
With a few moments that make sense,
And many other of pretense,
To self and to those who don’t know you.
I sit and lie to myself,
Then I make my friends believe,
That my smile is real and true,
That my core is firm and sold.
But the truth of myself is shut,
To depths that I cannot find,
With a pain I never want to feel,
With friends who act like make-up.
Hollow is my part,
As I act another,
And life goes on and on,
Now I don’t know how to find me.
We live life moving forward,
But it makes sense looking backwards!
And I still don’t want my past to define me?
Left hanging on the low,
Getting high is an unsustainable injection.