"the prince of drama and the king of over re-acting"

looking at the words on the page
they fit such a perfect pattern
like pieces to a puzzle they connect and exchange
just as they were meant to

one small moment of beauty, of perfection
in a week where nothing seems to be going my way
if I only had half the nerve to say what I write
but I keep it locked up inside
I'd rather mask myself with emotionless laughter
then have to encounter the bitter reality that I have created

lately it seems like I've been blaming everyone but me
and I know part of this is my fault
you may have pulled the trigger but I handed you that gun
now you may think it's over, but it's just one
one stupid mistake left for me to make

my future has direction for a good job for the first time
but I feel so alone, I feel so dead on the inside
I wish I could make friends that I could keep
I wish you didn't always make things out worse than they are
but you are the princess of drama,
the queen of over re-acting
so many loyal subjects, but none so high and mighty
and I am your prince; I am your king