She's always there, she's never there,
'cause only I can see.
Her raw, astounding beauty,
that I carved so perfectly.
But if I were to talk to her,
they'd turn and look at me,
for speaking straight into thin air,
so sad and childishly.
They see no face, no beauty,
just because they won't believe,
That someone can exist within the mind,
of somebody,
Whose lonely thoughts were simply craving
a little company.
She's never there, she's always there.
Right there, next to me.
- the_broken_poet_
