Filters come,

Filters go,

Read between the lines,

And then, you'll know.

Make-up, nail-art, hair-dos and fancy clothes,

None of it matters at the end of the night,

When you spend your time being something else,

It becomes your personal plight.

The never-ending vision of beauty,

The never-ending hearing of lies,

The never-ending feeling of hurt,

It always ends up in goodbyes.

I try to be the good housewife and mother,

I try to be a good friend and sister,

The person who is there,

But only treated like a blister.

Do I play it too well,

Or not well enough,

Do I give up,

Or learn to be tough?

You never know what you have,

Not really, until it's gone,

But you never know who you are,

If all you are is a button-down.