When I look at the scars that I have left I see that they have fade.
When I think about the promise I kept I knew I wasn't easy to save.
When I look back at my history I see a sad story.
When I remember the memory I knew I wasn't sorry.
I think about the things I've done, knowing I would not take them back.
I think about the actions I take knowing they went only white or black.
I see the scars newly made reminding me of failing.
I see the worried looks as I knew what would trailing.
I watch people around me as they smile and laugh.
I watch my own reflection knowing it wouldn't last.
I smile at their faces hoping they can't see through.
I start laughing knowing they never knew.
YOU ARE READING
Do you even know?
PoesíaDoes anyone know the feeling that no one knows you? That you always put on such a good act that people can never tell if you are okay or not?
