I don't want to write something, it's fake.
I don't want to be happy, it's fake.
I don't want to take a photo, it's fake.
And I don't want to share connections when they are fake.
I don't want to look back on constructed memories.
And I don't want to be part of your fantasy world.

Your body count totals, your goals remain high. You construct an unachievable world in which you believe anything can be fixed by a brush.
And you do this knowing that those that don't fit will desperately strive for this life, fearing they somehow be of lesser value than those seemingly perfect. Fake.

You are driven by money, you are driven by greed and you have willingly sold your daughters future.
She'll grow to believe she isn't enough, she'll grow to believe she needs to be more, and she'll grow to believe that she is not worthy.

But you have grown to be rich, and you have grown to be free, and you have grown to ignore this mess.