ode to the masses

honestly, being sad isnt that hard.

no matter how many times i say it,
over and over till the sky turns grey,
you'll never see, you'll never understand
that deep down someone i actually do care.
though you may think i feel no pain,
imagine that i've got ice filled veins.
the lies told over and over again,
conceal the truth of ghostly shame.
words dont come out the way they should,
meaning always clearly misunderstood.
you put me down cos you know you could,
though i've hoped you never would.
i cant say i've never cried,
right at the death of the plightless night.
stripped it right out of my head,
throw it in the boiler's gate.
let it spin and simmer round,
burn until it wont make any sound.
pause.
left right centre is doesnt ever matter,
its the same the claim the game.
often i do play the clown,
letting myself drown not frown.
but sometimes when the river clears,
into a gashing waterfall,
thats when it only ever hurts,
falling like a wingless bird.
you cant see that it means something to me,
what you think, what you make of me.
we all laugh and joke today,
but tomorrow its only my dismay.