Read My Eyes, Not My Lips

A poem I wrote back in 8th grade...not too sure how to summarize this.

She does not want your sorrow,
From what you may hear today or tomorrow .
She doesn’t what you to think differently of her,
Even if she is the silence, but to you she is a cure.

She’s wrapped up in a suit of disguise,
Holding back everything in her broken eyes.
You think that you have discovered who she is,
But you only hear half of what her brain says.

It does not take much to cause her anger,
But it does not take much to cause her laughter.
You always see her at her brightest,
But have never seen her at her weakest.

Despite all the friends that she has obtained,
She despises the human race and all it has maintained.
People are ignorant, people are cruel
Even though in the middle of it all she looks like the fool.

You ask why is she so different, like a dent in a perfect circle,
And how is she alive when her blood bleeds purple?
Why are her laughs so obnoxious and loud,
But her cries so dead and never allowed.

The world is her stage, but her performance never ends
No one ever notices because of how the colors blend.
Everyday is like a masquerade, but the mask is her face.
May there ever be an intermission in her case?

She stands tall, but her soul hangs low
No one could ever, ever know.
Who knows what hides behind her cold heart,
Except herself and her fragile art.

Maybe for once if you looked inside an eye,
You could tell ones pain and they cannot deny.
Listen to the other side, not just what you want to hear,
Don’t just believe in what you want to know, darling dear.

Next time take the time of your day,
To see what someone really is trying to say.
Maybe your words are adding to their agony,
Attacking more to their tragedy.

If you are young, or if you are old
This saying will always be told:
Treat others how you want to be treated
Because you never know if their soul has been defeated.

The End

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