A familiar face with secretive eyes.
I see right through you.
You avert your eyes every chance you could.
Is it guilt, or a nauseating inferiority complex?
You never were good with confrontation.
You hide your misery behind what you call a "smile",
mask your bitterness with sweet words,
conceal your emptiness behind endless small talk.
You're inevitably a deranged mess.
I can't stress enough how much I wanted you to bleed.
How I wanted you gone.
But you're still here.
Whether it's a good thing or not,
And that has to count for something.