The mirror tells lies.
Lies about the darkness that consumes your eyes.
Eyes filled with tears,
Tears just on the edge, but never spilling over.
Your best friend tells lies.
Lies about how your spirit is drained
Drained of love and warmth
Warmth that once spread like a wildfire, but is now extinguished by the rain.
Your teacher tells lies.
Lies about how your grades are slipping
Slipping out sight, out of your hands
Hands that are barely holding on.
Your parents tell lies.
Lies about how you aren’t you - once talkative but now secretive.
Secretive about everything, secretive about your arms.
Arms that seem to always be covered, even in the blistering heat.
You tell lies.
Lies about how you’re fine, that you’ve eaten
Eaten, even if it was a crumb from the night before.
Before you had any motivation to stop pretending,
Pretending that you’ve never been happier.