I'll be the girl you wnat to see,
hiding in layers of false honesty.

I'll say things to make you laugh,
though deep inside I'm being torn in half.

The feeling inside to do something great,
the other art says it's far to late.

All alone I see that bottle of death.
One little swallow would take my last breath.

Take the bottle do it, you have to.
Then nobody knows the things you can't do.

Cries for help absorbed on the white lined sheet,
such horrible sadness in writing so neat.

Should I leave it out so somebody will know,
or throw it away and keep up the show?

I have to hid it so no one can see.
The fear in the layers that cover me.