I’m not who you think me to be;

I’m not a sweet innocent girl,

waiting or searching for love.

I’m not a delicate little flower,

waiting to bloom.

I’m more dead than the flowers you gave me months ago,

I’m more harmful to them than the blistering sun.

I’m more shattered than the dreams I once had;

the dreams we once had.

You think you know me best,

But you don’t know me at 4am

Weeping alone

In my empty broken home,

feeling worthless.

My face is hidden behind a mask

That will make my flaws invisible.

Though you may not be able to see them,

I know they are there.

I feel them in the streams of my blood,

And I see them in the back of my mind.

I taste them in the back of my throat,

And I hear them in the depths of my thoughts.

I know they are there.

That is something you will never see,

You underestimate the person I seem to be.

I will never be who you think you see,

I’m not who you think me to be.