performer

[verse 1]
the lights come up, and i remember my lines,
smile wide enough to make it look fine.
you clap for the version you think that you know,
but i’m bleeding through glitter, it’s starting to show.

they love me most when i’m effortless grace,
don’t see the mascara that’s run down my face.
the stage is my armor, the jokes are my shield,
but the cracks in my voice are what’s finally real.

[pre-chorus]
i’m so tired of pretending i’m whole,
playing a part i can’t control—

[chorus]
i’m a performer, with a porcelain grin,
selling the dream while i’m breaking within.
they see the sparkle, not the ache in my spine,
my spotlight’s a lifeline, but it’s not mine.
i’m a performer, applause in my veins,
painting my heartbreak in glitter and pain.
smile for the cameras, swallow the ache—
every tear i hide, another take.

[verse 2]
i’ve learned to laugh at my own worst nights,
to make my trauma look staged just right.
and maybe that’s art, or maybe it’s fear,
i turn every breakdown into a career.

the audience never asks how i’ve been,
they just want the encore again and again.
so i tell them “i’m fine,” and they all believe,
‘cause no one can hear what i never leave.

[bridge]
when the curtain falls, i fall too,
into silence, into truth.
the costume’s heavy, the lines don’t fit,
the crowd goes home, i’m left with it.

[final chorus]
i’m a performer, a smile in disguise,
clapping along to my own goodbyes.
they see the shimmer, not the strain,
i turn my hurt into champagne pain.
and when they cheer, it almost feels right—
a standing ovation for surviving the night.

[outro]
so here’s to the act i play every day,
the show must go on—
even when i can’t say.