The Real Me
Lovely, they tell me,
Beautiful they say,
But I feel ugly and fake,
By the end of the day.
Lovely, I scoff,
Beatiful, I'm not,
They don't see,
How much I rot.
They talk of my mask,
A fake is who they know,
Because honestly,
I don't want them to see my sorrow.
I don't want them to see,
How much I cut,
How much I cry,
How much I scream,
How much I ask why.
I don't want them to see,
The real me.
YOU ARE READING
Pleas and Cries
PoetryPoetry and thoughts. This is sometimes like a little diary for me, so there will occasionally be stuff about my personal life.
