Poems. My storys into words.

...

You're just a stranger to me like I am to you.
You only know what You see and same with me.
You never knew what was wrong with me and I didn't know what was wrong with You.
You told me more about you than you know about me.
I knew that if you knew most things about me you would leave.
So I hid it.
You didn't need to see who I was really when I was alone.
There's only a couple people who know what I do when I'm alone in the darkness of my room.
And you didn't need to see that or even know of it.
You didn't know much about me and you still don't.