We've all been asked to portrait pain with a smile
A mask like no other
A mask that penetrates happiness
A feeling that hasn't existed within my heart
A feeling that seems but a myth to my thoughts
To be added to more lies
The lies that have given birth to stories
Stories so shrivelled and cruel
Stories so ravishing only to the blind eye
The blind eyes that believe these dreadful lies
They have been blinded by a picture of what happiness is
And what it may be,
Oh how these happy faces have belonged to no other than to the cruel mistresses of my fathers
Who have enjoyed my pain and suffering
Who have demanded me to feel my anguish
To lather in my unheard screams
They have been the crows that have never been scared
The crows that feed on my decaying soul
These mistresses have hidden me behind smiling masks
To portrait what happiness is,
A lie.
