All the cover-up and lipstick can't erase the demon in-side
it's an illusion created by a sick lie I hide
Once I pull up my sleeves, I reveal a darker side.
Gawks strike me from left to right.
Their hungry eyes are glued to the eerie sight.
"She doesn't look like the type."
I can't soak up the sun on the beach with-out
tasting the tears rolling down my cheeks.
people are starring at me.
My past is pasted on my arms for the world to see,
While other people can run from their mistakes.
When is it my turn to be free?