It seems like people don’t love you.
Not when you’re at your lowest.
They want your gold,
when they didn’t sift through the dirt to get it.
They want your riches,
when they weren’t surviving off ramen,
Unlike you who did.

It seems people only love the pretty in you.
They stay for your sunset, leave at night.
They stay for your joy, leave when you’re angry.
They stay for dinner, but don’t help clean.

It seems like people,
Well it seems people only like...