Everyone hides their demons
Everyone is afraid of their secrets
Everyone dreads the pain in their tears
We conseal the imperfect in our perfection
Because it is easier to lie to the world
Than be honest with ourselves
We let our flaws define us
We let our doubts hold us
And our hurts bound us
But all these are just our fraility
Our human beauty
Not our clarity
Or the definition of our genuinity
Not who we are.
