My head hurts from her yelling.
My heart melts from all the lies.
My lungs kill from the nicotine.
But it helps with the cries.
The drinking turned her into a beauty queen.
From what she believes is true.
I'm sick of it.
I've been sick of it for some time.
But all we do it sweep it under.
And smile to our friends on Sunday morning.
It hurts like the rain and thunder.
Everyday is a day in it self.
The smiles she cakes on.
Is it real or is it fake?
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