I wonder why
they unnoticed the real me.
The every curls I own
which they adore the most.
Could drive them insane.
The original brunette of my hair
bounces like a ball when I run.
The thick henced fur as my eyelashes
that is excuisite when it is dripping.
The sparkle of million stars
inside my dark brown iris
could turn into light one
when the sun shines through.
The sponge of muscle
in my nose tip causes them rejoice.
The smooth cotton built as my lips
like a fantasy lullaby to their sleep
when they lean theirs against it.
The long dotted neck of mine
would be their favourite view.
The pointy slender fingers attached to my hands
make them lost their mind when I caress them.
Perhaps they blinded of,
Or perhaps they scared of,
Or perhaps they irritated of.
The beast inside of me struggles,
The monster inside of me races,
The wolve inside of me growls,
Finally show itself to others.
For them,
The curls of mine are common.
The original brunette looks fake.
The thick fur slowly drop within sin.
The million stars erase the sparkle.
The sun feels disgust to shine.
The sponge already hard.
The cotton already vanished.
The dotted neck is gross.
The fingers felt nothing.
They did not see them.
They will never see them.
Not to mention appreciate them.
Never ever.
BECAUSE I HIDE THEM FROM THEM.