With lips painted so perfectly,
And eyes as hollow as a rotten tree
She haunts my dreams, killing me
Who is this woman
Whose hatred for me burn brighter than the hottest flames on the surface of the sun
Who is this woman
This mistress of melancholy
She is me
I am she
Oh, can’t you see
I am not what I once was
And I despise what I’ve become
Look into this mirror and all that I see
Is a plastic doll
But no
It’s just me
A shell of a soul with no hope left
Fake and phony
That is what I am
I do not like what I see in my reflection
And although I may cry on the inside
I plaster a smile onto my face
With lips painted so perfectly
And eyes as hollow as a rotten tree