Falsity.

Am I not good enough, not good enough for you?
I think you don't know that I notice, but babe, I do.

Dear, darling
You can make me smile, make me laugh
But I'm beginning to think this is a falsity.

It feels like a fucking knife,
A cruel, sharpened blade.

I hope the liquid stains your hands, stains your clothes.
Feel a vein pop, create something you loathe.