Every night, the stars shine less.
Slowly dying inside too, I guess.
Most people look but they can’t tell,
It’s a feeling I shouldn’t have to know so well.

When being a friend is a terrible sin,
And to be kind means you won’t fit in,
It’s a thing that can make you feel so low,
And in the darkness, I feel like letting go.

But every time, it doesn’t hurt so much,
As my soul deconstructs and loses touch.

I bought my ticket long ago,
And over and over I watch the show,
And though everyone sits and pretends,
We all know how it ends.