My true thoughts are cheerful, longing and deep
But my surface of much shallow anxieties
So am I much lesser by such company I keep
So trade much simple for burdensome complexities
The true me is indeed cheerful and deep
Traded for a frail me of lesser ability
In exchanges of losing real for something cheap
Pretending virtuous where otherwise a calamity
Quite frankly I live in a world of make-believe
Quite frankly only I can believe such story
Pretending happiness when I am quite bereaved
Affixing upon melancholy a halo of glory
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