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Description
I'd write truth, but even the word is a waste of time when it's from me-- but for all the wrong reasons, with no rhyme at all.

Fuck the fact that I was raised on lies, in houses coated with gold that turned out to be lead that turned out to be poison that turned out to be deadly.
Fuck the fact that I was raised in a lie, where nothing mattered past the facade-- but at least it was a really good facade.
Fuck the fact that I'm not even a good fucking liar.

All that matters is that the truth never mattered so much as circumstantial evidence.
All that matters is that a lie is a lie, even when it's the truth.
All that matters is that no one believes me when I'm telling the truth, so why bother giving these fucks even an inch of my soul?

And I was young and I was stupid and I let what the world saw define me.
And I was young and I was scared and I let that fear shape me.
And I was young and I was fragile and, god, all I wanted was someone to love me.

But I was never fool enough to think there was anything worth loving.

"Is there anyone you hate with all your heart?" And the question is real and the polar opposite of romanticized, the exact opposite of a faerietale.

If not romanticized, honest.
If not faerietale, reality.

And I don't care much about where I'm from, but I'm getting tired of having it haunt me; and I don't care much that I'm a waste of humanity, but I'm getting tired of having to pretend it's not true.

"I hate you," and it's said like a threat, but any human contact that doesn't involve actual touching is a new relief.
"Leave me alone," and it's meant to inspire distance, but birds of a feather, right?
"No one could ever love you," and it's meant to hurt, but if it's true, why bother caring?

And memories are memories for a reason, so tuck me under your pillow and pretend I touched any part of you that matters. Keep my picture around to make up for the fact that you can't remember my name because it never mattered, anyway. Pretend there was any actual feelings involved past the lies that were lies even if they were truths.

And I'll commit every second to memory the same way I do with everything I've ever wanted to forget.

Description
I'd write truth, but even the word is a waste of time when it's from me-- but for all the wrong reasons, with no rhyme at all.

Fuck the fact that I was raised on lies, in houses coated with gold that turned out to be lead that turned out to be poison that turned out to be deadly.
Fuck the fact that I was raised in a lie, where nothing mattered past the facade-- but at least it was a really good facade.
Fuck the fact that I'm not even a good fucking liar.

All that matters is that the truth never mattered so much as circumstantial evidence.
All that matters is that a lie is a lie, even when it's the truth.
All that matters is that no one believes me when I'm telling the truth, so why bother giving these fucks even an inch of my soul?

And I was young and I was stupid and I let what the world saw define me.
And I was young and I was scared and I let that fear shape me.
And I was young and I was fragile and, god, all I wanted was someone to love me.

But I was never fool enough to think there was anything worth loving.

"Is there anyone you hate with all your heart?" And the question is real and the polar opposite of romanticized, the exact opposite of a faerietale.

If not romanticized, honest.
If not faerietale, reality.

And I don't care much about where I'm from, but I'm getting tired of having it haunt me; and I don't care much that I'm a waste of humanity, but I'm getting tired of having to pretend it's not true.

"I hate you," and it's said like a threat, but any human contact that doesn't involve actual touching is a new relief.
"Leave me alone," and it's meant to inspire distance, but birds of a feather, right?
"No one could ever love you," and it's meant to hurt, but if it's true, why bother caring?

And memories are memories for a reason, so tuck me under your pillow and pretend I touched any part of you that matters. Keep my picture around to make up for the fact that you can't remember my name because it never mattered, anyway. Pretend there was any actual feelings involved past the lies that were lies even if they were truths.

And I'll commit every second to memory the same way I do with everything I've ever wanted to forget.