March 9, 2020
You think you know every move I make.
Every thought I think.
Every breath I take.
You think you know where my weak spots are.
What I fear.
What I believe in.
You think you know all my secrets.
All my favorite foods,
All my favorite songs.
You think you know all these things,
But you don't know me.
You don't know the reasons I cry,
or the reasons I break things
and wish I could break myself.
You don't know who my friends are,
or how good they are at making me feel human.
You don't know how to make me feel human.
You claim I'm some sort of goddess,
and yet you control every move I make.
Human is me. I am human.
And you don't know that.
You don't know what my favorite movie is,
or what color I see when I dream of paradise.
You don't know a damn thing about me.
I used to care about you.
I used to care what you thought,
I used to care what you felt.
I used to care how my actions affected you.
But guess what?
I don't care anymore.
Because people who actually love me,
who actually care for me,
They actually know me.
And you don't.
That revelation has never felt so good before.
You.
Don't.
Know.
Me.
YOU ARE READING
the moonlit side of reality (a poetry collection)
PoesíaSometimes, when stories aren't enough, I turn to poems. Sometimes, when I set a pen to paper, magic flows out. Sometimes, when I write poetry, something beautiful happens.