Your thrill is nothing but old news,

And stale tobacco smoke.

Wrapped up with a bow of red lipstick,

And chains hanging from your belt.

You act like you're so cool-

Like no one has ever cut her hair short,

And wore their skirt above their knee.

But I know the real you:

You're just another scared girl,

With ribbons of scars and spikey hair.

Headphones blasting out heavy metal music,

And writing down emo lyrics.

My picture album is filled with pictures of our summer memories;

My heart mourns for the person you once were.

Appearances can be deceiving,

But you can't fool me.

I know who is behind the dark eyeliner,

And black stockings.

Silly girl,

You can't deceive me.