She's a princess of depression, a baroness of despair even when she sees happiness everywhere. Her crowns jewels that one shown so bright are replaced with pills, guns, and razor blade slights. She paints a smile of blood she cuts in the flesh of make up that the world sees. No one bothers to remove the fake skin to reveal the dying person underneath. She no they, their peers always get that wrong. It hurts to know society only likes her like this. Maybe one day the pills will disappear and the only blush she has are her running tears. Maybe the pain will go away maybe they'll live to see the day they don't live as "she" or file as "he" because people shove in their throat "THERE IS NO IN BETWEEN" maybe one day the people will see, maybe they'll finally be kind to me. Maybe just maybe I can live to be free.
