I often wonder
How people feel
When they look at me.
Is it
The overwhelming sense of love
That I feel for only my very dearest?
Or is it
A spike of jealousy
Hatred even
For something I don't know I've done.
It often worries me
Frustrates me
That over this
I have no control.
Everyone has
A different version of me
In their mind's eye.
None of them true, I must state
For nobody knows me as I know myself.
Some versions are bad
Others are good
All of them
Are beyond my reach.
I'm told
To "stop worrying
About what others think"
How I wish
It was that simple.
