Crystal clear, forming tears,
hidden by hair not tucked behind an ear.
Wringing wrists, clenched fists,
tapping and scratching,
lips trembling through the patching.
Humming an incoherent verse,
wishing away the curse,
shaking fingers clutching a shaking tray.
What if they're mad at me?
They probably hate me anyways.
Maybe I should skip this.
No one will notice
will they?
They might.
They'll call me out.
There will be jokes and disappointment,
is it worth it to just stay out?
Petrified hands, open a door
wide eyes look inside
to see much more.
Talking and laughing, and seeming happiness
that I've come to miss.
No one glances my way.
But I put my head down,
and walk quickly to my destination,
sitting down with no motivation
except to try to hide the tears and the trembling and the playing at my food instead of eating because my nervous hands need something too do.
Trying to hide the shaking and the pain by just saying
"It's nothing, I'm okay."
YOU ARE READING
Nobody Was Meant to See
Poetry[Trigger Warning, please be safe when reading] They aren't supposed to know. They aren't meant to read these poems that I'm writing. I've concealed them for a reason. -Shitty poems about how I feel-
