Read between the lines,
And then, you'll know.
Make-up, nail-art, hair-dos and fancy clothes,
None of it matters at the end of the night,
When you spend your time being something else,
It becomes your personal plight.
The never-ending vision of beauty,
The never-ending hearing of lies,
The never-ending feeling of hurt,
It always ends up in goodbyes.
I try to be the good housewife and mother,
I try to be a good friend and sister,
The person who is there,
But only treated like a blister.
Do I play it too well,
Or not well enough,
Do I give up,
Or learn to be tough?
You never know what you have,
Not really, until it's gone,
But you never know who you are,
If all you are is a button-down.