look at me
what do you notice?
you can hear my laughter,
watch my dancing.
you can look at my clothes,
admire my hair.
but you don't see me.
the real me.
look past my scars,
what do you see?
do the harsh lines tell you of my suffering,
or am i merely attention-seeking?
you see my glossy eyes watching tear after tear fall,
but am i just a cry baby?
you notice the meals i skip and the toilet trips,
it doesn't matter though, i'm following the trend, right?
you can call me names,
torment me
as if i don't do that to myself already.
so when you walk past me in the street
you look at me,
but you don't see me
