you’re a little late
i’m already torn
even as tears stain my pillow
i tell myself that i’m okay.
you always fuss over things like this
but don’t you know
that it’s hard for me to say no
i can’t do it the way it’s always been done
i’m not like that perfect sky
but i want to be.
or at least good enough for you.
and yet even when these tears fall it remains unseen.
because i want to be perfect that way.
at least through your eyes.
that’s why i call myself a liar
because with you and everybody else, the truth doesn’t matter anymore.
it doesn’t matter what i feel
it doesn’t matter what i see. or don’t get to see.
i’ve always been torn apart
in so many ways
i’m wide awake
and i can see
the perfect sky is torn