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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I wish nothing more than to quit this game of pretend I want to go back to being me, and forget whatever happened I play pretend Like a little girl who plays dress up. I play pretend To be an innocent little girl again I play pretend To make everyone happy To make everyone leave me alone I forgot who I am. Am I really this nice of a person who gets walked over excessivly? Then why do I have another part to me, screaming to be let go of. To be let out... Why is it whenever I let that half of me out even the slightest People jump the gun and make me out to be a monster? I am scared of that other half I'm completely sure what she's like I know that it is almost nothing like the other my other half Why can't I be all of me? I'm so tired of pretending. I smile so much, my face hurts. I smile so much I want to cry I hate to smile. False smiles, False laughs, and lies That's how I play pretend. "I swear I'm okay." That's an empty promise. I hate pretending It kills me every day. It makes me forget the other half inside That claws and screams to get out. It makes me forget the pain Which only comes back later Intensified, stronger, and more violent. I'm tired of putting up with false friends Who do nothing but accuse me And point out my mistakes Yell at me, and want to change me Wanting to bend and break me I'm tired of pretending Of being so malluble just to make other people happy But what about me, huh? When will Samantha get her day to be happy? When will Samantha get to be herself? When can she stop playing pretend? IF she can even stop playing pretend. I'm tired of these false friends With their invisible unknown strings set into my back. I'm tired of puppet masters for friends People are so stupid They are so blind and trusting They can never tell when I say a lie. "I'm okay." "No, it's fine, trust me." I'm tired of making everyone else happy, except myself. Why should I rely on people anyway? They only dissapoint me in the end. Love dissapointed me Love betrayed me Friendship stabbed me in the back and they both lied to me. What have I left? Nothing really. Music for one thing My mind for another But really, what have I left? Nothing. I'm tired of pretending... I wish that I could stop... But I've become so accustomed to it... That it's become like a drug I can't quit. Not to make me happy... But everyone else around me happy. And me all the more miserable.
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