Do You Know Me
You said you loved me, but do you even know me?
by Sangay Smith
Do you see me as I am
or just as a dressed up version of what you want me to be?
Do you see my smile, my good nature, and my fears?
Do you understand me like you say you do?
Because if you did these questions
would never have been uttered from my lips.
You would have heard the misery in my voice.
Smelt the pain on my body, see the sorrow in my eyes.
No, you don't know me, you don't even see me.
A dressed up image of me you show to the world and yourself.
A trophy to be shown, never to be touched or loved.
We are not perfect, this much I know.
You must first see to understand this dismal state.
How can you possible see me when I don't even see myself?
Looking in the mirror at an unsmiling face.
These eyes do not have compassion or care.
They are dead, body slumped back, eyes hazed.
No longer do I glow, but darkness I breathe.
I am invisible, I am dead.