My anger as red as fire.
My sadness has dark as night.
Can't I just go through life without this judgement?

Who cares what I wear?
Who cares who I am at home?
If only they knew how broken I was.

I'm human after all.
I'm not always happy.
When can we ever be our selves?

I can see why people get mad easily.
But most of the time it's over nothing.
Like a rip of a book page.