coverup
Learn more about other poetry terms
What do they see?
They don’t see me for my heart for they believe it to be irrelevant to do so
I am like a shadow that crosses the dark path
I am pain in their wound
I am the eclipse of the sun
She seems to be
Unstoppable
Like the world can’t hold her
Down.
And sometimes she seems so
Confident,
Like she’s waiting to be
Crowned.
No one’s ever seen her
Cry.
the girl they see
quiet,
shy,
sweet,
strong,
the girl I am.
loud,
outgoing,
smart,
deep,
I am both girls unfiltered.
and im completely happy,
Without a filter I'm just a kid,
Without a father and a mother in prison,
I've seen some things that you'll never see,
Things that make small children scream,
But what you can never see,
Its a feeling not a knowing.
Curiosity and randomness lead me to you.
I feel so blue.
We are so clueless.
Where to begin and where to end.
Every aspect of my life has
Always been a splintered crack
between myself and who I wanted to portray.
It wasn't my fault.
I just wasn't good enough.
I was not satisfied with who I was,
I have two faces but I only show one
No one knows my true face, none
All you can see is my mask
Nobody even cares to ask
Who cares?
My real face shows my trepidation
When I had no place to go, your door was closed.
And when I knocked, I heard it lock.
So I let the rain cover me, and as it flows with my tears,
I know that I will soon have to face the mirrors.
Fidgeting, sweating palms, racing heart-
Please relax I say; my insecurities can rip me apart.
I'm so scared, on the fringe of fright.
This disorder makes me believe that I'm not at all bright.
I was handed a mask at a very young age.
Society offered, and like the rest I took the bait.
Fiting into my jeans is almost as difficult as fiting in with everyone else.
The fear of never being wanted is almost as scary as my fear of being "that girl."
Little ones, afraid of the dark,
know more than we do.
They know secrets are in the dark,
If I were less afraid I would have turned myself inside out and shown you even the darkest sublevels of my conscience.
I would have scooped out my thoughts
Like the innards of a pumpkin
The doors open for shows at seven,
And prohibit customers past eleven.
When the time comes and the clock strikes the hour,
Hundreds of people charge into the tower.
Swarms of customers all rushing about,
