She reluctantly pries open those dying, tired lids of her eyes
With her best effort, she tries and denies those highly despised cries
It's no surprise in her aspiring self demise
But she finds it wise to rely on time to erase the mourning within which lies
The critical gazes restrained upon her, and the unavoidable spotlight on her face
She'll break herself down and demand not to fall, at least until her victory in this race
Nothing will make her stumble or frown
Her secretive aching will escape her somehow
Leaders run in the front of the line and winners never lag behind
Life will kill her if she ever succumbs to it being a little too unkind
Her smile is her token to her own heart
And she'll be damned if she lets her love fall apart
Those bright, shining eyes are her tool at construction
Of her project: glorified self-corruption
For their viewing pleasure don't lead them to believe
Their anticipation may lead to be more than true
Because the worst explanation they could possibly receive
Is a response stating, "It's really me; trust me, it's not you."
Their attention won't fade, you fiery angel
Aim your fury at your doubts and one day you will learn
Give your best effort and eventually you will earn
That achievement of which you should never have yearned.
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