Her family see her as her,
They see what others don't.
They see the flaws and understatements that others won't.
But even to them,
There is a side she will never show.
Many thoughts swirl about her,
but at the end they say they are just a blur.
To them she is mysterious,
Never really showing who she is.
Her lips part at the right time, and shut when not needed.
She's the silent.
Many dismiss her as one of the others,
Fitting in the background of the painting,
Her soul like a blur.
Her ways of being was the same as others.
She was like a lost child,
Following everybody else.
She longs for the time when she can be free.
She longs for the time where she can finally be herself.
A time will come,
when she will break free
And becomes what she wants to be.
To them, she is shy.
To them, she is silently mean
For not speaking her mind.
She is like a Japanese folktale,
Where her truest reflection was never shown to anyone.
