Empty walls, and even more empty chairs
Covered up with stoic white paint, and filled with people who don't care
What people don't understand is that it is possible to be empty while appearing completely full
When someone asks how my day went, "good" doesn't mean "wonderful"
Most of the time "good" doesn't mean good at all

It is possible to be smiling, even laughing
It is all just a false happy moment that I'm not actually having
It is possible that what you assume is wrong.
It is easy to feel like you fit in, even when you don't belong
I act polite, even when my words are anything but kind
I tell the truth, but the life I'm living is a lie

Empty rooms, and even more empty beds
A person used to sleep there, now the idea of them is dead
I'm not that same girl,
so happy-go-lucky
Now I'm damaged, and very begrudging
You think that I forgot the things you said to me when you were being cross?
Or the things you said to me when you were just, "being a good boss?"
But what about the jokes you told?
They were hurtful, not funny, so don't be surprised if I'm cold

Empty hours filled with even more empty minutes
I'm wasting each moment wondering, when will my life start, when will I begin it?
Just because time may seem full, constantly occupied, always moving
Doesn't mean that life isn't empty, coming up short, always loosing
It doesn't really matter what is said, what is done
how lonely or how filled with fun

Glass half empty, glass full
it's point of view, that's all
"Try to be positive- you're bringing us down with your negativity"
But what they don't know
What they don't see-
Is that I'm not full like I seem
No, I'm completely, dangerously, tragically...

empty.