They can see me now, but at what cost?
All this time I’ve been invisible
hiding, blending in the background.
I have tried to be liked, to be loved…
To be fake – ‘tis all I’ve ever known.
I were merely a chameleon, trying to dwell in society.

A coward. A traitor. A fake. An egotistical maniac.
Hiding behind that mask of mine,
refusing to let anyone peek inside me,
afraid they would run away if they somehow did.

Abandoned. Alone. Disgusting. Broken.
Nobody wants to play with a broken toy,
to stick around a traitor of their own beliefs.
So I hid it. Buried it deep inside.
‘Till it began to rot. ‘Till it began to die.
But it can never truly die – it is a weed in a garden full of flowers.

A mirage. An illusion. A trick. A dream.
Change is but a combination of those.
One can never change or suppress who they are.
Even if they try, it is bound to be a failure –
what the subconscious is, the subconscious will be.
You are cursed to be yourself, no matter your will.
Acceptance. Growth. People. Vulnerable.
So better accept your true self,
Greet it as an old friend of yours.
Let it grow. Let it fester. Make peace. Be yourself.
Let people see your true colours, no matter the lack of armour now.

Cruel. Hurting. Sadistic. Malicious.
People are vultures, circling around, waiting to finish somebody off.
They prey off the weak, too scared to tackle somebody their size.
Be different. Be yourself. Get hurt but jump right back up.
Show them what true power is.