The perfect little family in the perfect little house with the perfect little children with the perfect grades, and the perfect ways. The perfect jobs with the perfect pay. Thats all a load, and we all know it. Going through public events, standing from afar you can see them pretending to be what they arent. Get close and you can see thier painted on smiles, eyes dead from thier lies, and all thier imperfections. Go behind thier walls of thier flawles abode, and you will see thier real selves. They yell, they scream, they cry, they argue, and bad things happen. They walk around with thier lies in order, thier scars hidden, hearts stitched together in a slow and perfect line, smiles perfectly plastered on, and laughs on cue. When you see past this, into thier other self, thier hair is matted, cheeks stained from tears, heart ripped open everywhere, laughter forgotten, and a smile thrown away. They live like this, and nobody will ever get to see, perfections worn and old, mask.