I smile and play pretend through the Morning Show in the kitchen.
Some adults would rather pretend that bad things dont exist than to talk about them.
I inscribe three lines, hush hush hush, into my skin. Ghosts trickle out.
There is nothing wrong with me. These are really sick people, sick that you can see.
Rumors are spread by jealous people
Iโm the girl who trips on the dance floor and canโt find her way to the exit. All eyes on me.