SOME DAYS

some days when i'm not myself
i'm sit here wishing i was someone else
someone beautiful, someone pretty,
someone, someone,
someone not me

i sit here trying to look pretty
i sit here and write bad poetry
of reasons why i can't survive
of reasons why i'd like to lie
about who i am, and where i'd like to be
a mistress in a far off land,
a woman lost at sea
the thought of being anywhere else
is the thought of being happy
(if only, for one moment of time)

it's no mystery, my history of self-doubt
being plain jane with a permanant pout
i fake happy smiles and laughs all around
it seems like i'll aways be this girl
in the ripped up gown

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