I write when I feel happy, I write when I feel sad,
I write at 1 am, and I write whenever I can,
In writing I find an escape, an escape that carries me through,
For you that don’t know me, I always like to smile,
A smile can be polite, a smile can capture serenity,
But for others it can hide the pain, of days you’d rather not say,
So then no one will ask that one dreaded question, “Are you ok?”
Does it really matter? Do you really care?
They say your mother knows you best, she gave you life and she brought you up,
But she also caused those salty tears streaming down your pretty face,
You look in the mirror, and ask yourself, when can I be gone?
Away from all this, you whisper in the night.
If I could just for one day fly freely and carelessly with the wind, I would,
Dear Mum, how many times do you look in the mirror? How many times can you feel what I feel?
Dear Mum, please know, there are many things I want to tell you,
Of happy moments and sad ones too, but somehow you make it hard,
When you criticise me, when you yell, you make me feel like I want nothing to do with you,
We are but two hearts, that have long lost their way.