Our Proof

Unsettled is our hearts,
thinking we're not good enough,
trying to meet expectations that were never there,
avert your eyes from these images we glorify.
They're only two dimensional.

Striving to be someone you're not,
blame it on society, they always take the fall anyways,
but maybe it was there from the start,
Maybe it's etched into our hearts.

The very same souls we
subtlety sell ourselves to,
the very same ones to whom we try to prove our worth,
Oh look at you.
The ones we see as pure perfection,
we wouldn't have ever known their motives return in reflection.

You wouldn't have ever known that they mirror your lack of self worth.

So what have you to prove?
What have we to sell?