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.
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