I know it's weird
But I hate
When people tell me
'I love your parents'
Or 'your so lucky to have them'
Or the like
never been a fan of boldfaced lies
I hate it with blistering passion
Cause they don't really,
Love them I mean
They love what they see
And what they see is only
A fraction of my reality
Every time we leave that house
Fake smiles on
And laughs to loud
Every single time
we play 'happy family'
I feel myself fall for the lie
That everything is alright
And then when we're home again
Our little fantasy crashes down
Masks fall off
True colors bleed
Our flower garden
Choked with weeds
But what is a rose,
Without its thorns?