We work in deceit

My mother is an actress, she makes suburbia her stage

She smiles when she wants to shout, she covers up her rage

Her tears always evaporate, before you get too close

She’s one of broadway’s brightest

She’s the star of every show.

My father is a ringmaster. He likes to have control

He orchestrates the dancers and the people that he owns

He hides his face with stage makeup, tophats, coats, and bows

You can never be too sure about

What he says and what he knows

I grew up as an actress, I feigned innocence and peace

I spent my childhood lion-taming, pushing back their screams

I’ve outgrown the bigtop, I detest the backstage wings

I was never meant to have these homes

I was meant for better things.

I’ve heard it said that writers are just glorified liars

But I’ll keep selling fiction as long as they remain my buyers

I’ve heard it said, it’s not surprising, what I want to be

After all, the apple, doesn’t fall far from the tree

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