Yellow-Ideya-Hunter

Tears on her eyes, she's a shattered-hearted, broken mess, In the tension of the pressure and the stress, She mumbles words like poison as she gets up from the floor, She will stand ontop of millions and take the world, Why can't she be cute like all the other girls? A cheap, pathetic brand is what has made these lying whores. But does she know she's never really had friend? No one, no one, there's nothing, none. And all she ever does is smile and pretend, It hurts, it hurts, it really, really hurts, Hanging on her strings she's got a sickness in her head, Promising her mama she'd be better off dead, Hide away her sadness, tell em all that