I wake up every morning and I think "oh well again"
the first thing I think about is the scale
then what keeps me sane
I look in the mirror and cover my face with the façade I want to place
so these people can’t tell me I can be replaced.
Over time I think is it worth?
The agony and the pain
and make myself retain this anger and hell that I don’t even comprehend?
Shouldn’t I be able to talk about it and do it for myself?
but when I see my reflection all I think about is them
who they think I am.
If only they saw through this play
The act that drives me insane
They would be surprised by the person they think they know too well.
I guess the blame wasn’t theirs
perhaps mine, or the worlds
or this society that keeps us all stern.
We ought to come out of this cycle
The one with endless turns:
Tells us what to think, what to wear
What we feel and what we should learn.
Our minds are manipulated by the aim
we remain the target of society’s expectations and declaims.
But if we know this all too well
why can’t we just go ahead and leave as well?
I guess it doesn't matter if we are against it all
at the end of the day, this is the life they tell us to obtain
the one in which villains are praised
And heroes remain oppressed
by the ignorance of the constructed base
in which we remain prisoners once again.
Why didn’t you say something?
They said I wasn’t enough
they wouldn’t believe a word I thought
they even said “shut up”
and you dare to ask us why we didn’t speak up?
they would’ve killed us either way
believed us or not he would be let loose
so we figured we would just contain it.
Was it the right thing
I will never know
but the hurt I said, I would never show
an unhappy life because of a bastard that couldn’t keep it in his pants
is what I went through with all the lies
it wasn’t once or twice but all the village who heard the cries
of girls with unwanted attention
ending in the male inflection
of the disgusting acts, we still deal with in today’s generations.
And her eyes will turn into glass and you’ll see how it all shatters
that girl with an aching heart will tell you it doesn’t matter
meanwhile, her soul is crashing down exhausted from all the pain
and then, her eyes will start pouring rain
that reality sinking in, to her feels like getting hit by a train
so you’ll pretend everything is fine and okay
yet there is still that girl with the glass eyes and a broken heart
more than a heart a soul begging for healing
if only she was dreaming.
-Wake her up.
I can’t seem to cry
I knew it would die
the days of us blinding our sights
to the realness that wouldn’t come out
it is done, over with
that feeling of pain became relief
I can breathe
I am alive
and all of this I owe it to the one
who made the mask come off
to the eyes of the blind.
Yet, words weren’t the ones that taught me how to speak
it was the chaos amidst the silence
that showed me
the heaviness of our voices and their real worth.
-It was the silence.