The things she carries

She carries her sorrows upon her back
They cut her like tattoos
And every sad person she's ever met
And every drop of booze

Weighs down upon her shoulder blades
And grates upon her spine
So she assumes there's something more
When you say you feel fine

"I knew a person like you once
Her smile was a façade"
And so she doubts your happiness,
Your honesty, your God

At best she is a critic,
Her perceptions often great
But oh, at worst, how she condemns
How deeply can she hate

So when we make her smile
She's still got plenty to unpack
But when we let her down,
She holds the memory on her back