Worse Things

I'm tired of repeating the worse things. There are things that happiness brings. I know that. I really don't mind being the welcome mat. It's not something I can control. It burns deep inside my soul. To let my pain come through. Because I don't express the same things to you. I'm cheerful and happy, when you see me. There are worse things I could be. But when they look. They don't read the same book. I look cold and distant. Lost in my own thought. Thinking I'm resistant. Good looks can't be bought. So excuse the fact, that I only write with pain. Seeing as though. I write in vain. It's just my feeling of feeling too low.