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This is a poem that I wrote about people not seeing others (namely me) clearly. |
| I sit in this dusty hall listening to the sounds Of the angry people, making their nightly rounds They sneer at me, seeing what they may Not wanting to know that I'm far from okay Their eyes pass by my crumpled form Telling themselves that it's far from the norm To be sitting out, seperate from the world No, clearly, there is something wrong with that girl People tell their eye what they want them to see And in those lies, they forget the real me I am seen through a haze that passes in front of their eyes As they conviently forget their self proclaimed lies A shadow, that's what I am, all I've ever been Hiding myself behind the pain deep within Shrouded beneath the cold truth of my reception Blinded they are, by their flawed perception |