I need time to collect myself,
but there's someone at the door,
waiting for me to come out
looking as fine as I did before.
I've been in here for far too long,
but I can't face the looks tearing me apart
or the questions trying to put me back together
without knowing which pieces go where.
I've been in here for far too long.
I've kept quiet for far too long.
I'll never speak up, now.
the questions were nice at first,
but now they feel like blame,
'cause I tend to ruin everything,
and the answer's always the same.
Yes, I want to talk about it,
and no, I'm not okay.
But of course,
that's never what I say,
because to admit the truth would be to lose the game.
all I can offer is the same fake smile that never reaches my tired red eyes,
and hope no one ever thinks to call me on my lies.
because I wouldn't be able to stop myself, then.
I can't let anyone know, because how can I possibly explain?
@
