Maybe, I am not really as sweet as I appear to be;
Maybe I am just faking it all;
Maybe those sweet words are a song on repeat,
One I stopped listening to a long time ago,
The one that just plays in the background,
While what plays in my mind
Is a mystery, even to me.
Maybe me helping you
Is me trying to appear kind,
So you keep on coming back to me;
And I can delve in your hearts,
Wreck your lives,
Steal the smiles,
I put on your face
In the first place.
Maybe you aren’t as good as you appear to be;
Maybe that charity is just a cover,
To hide all your underhand shit;
So the ones you cheat are the ones who hail you;
So that you have no enemies.
Maybe your words of condolences,
Are wrapped up in bitter victory;
So no one ever knows,
It’s you who got them in the trouble.
Maybe we aren’t all as kind as we appear to be;
Maybe there aren’t any kind souls at all;
Maybe we are all just pretending;
Maybe there isn’t anything like love;
Maybe we are just waiting,
To rip each other apart,
Devour the souls,
To satiate our own;
Unaware that their’s are,
just as tarnished as ours.
Or maybe not.