you said that i wasnt pretty, so i just believed you.
and you said that i wasnt special, so i lived that way.
with critical gazes and brutal amazement at how my reflection could be so inperfect,
with all of my blemishes.
how could somebody want me?

i tried to clean up the outside, all shiny and new.
worked overtime to thin up and look right.
but inside i knew, that deep in the bottom were secrets i thought i could try to ignore.
old ghosts in my corridoor never get tired of haunting the past thats in me.