《THE WHITE ROSE PAINTED WITH BLOOD》xv - the art of pretending to be fine
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casual jokes and roasts
he liked seeing his friends smile
playful shoves and pokes
it made him feel a bit valued for
a
while
but in the end, it was just him
alone as a star and just as lonely
his shot filled to the brim
but his chest was
always
empty
his friends didn't know of
his problems back at home
they all had perfect families
while he was
off
alone
he was a master at the art
of pretending to be fine
pretending he had perfect rhythm
when he was a poem that didn't rhyme
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