People who see me Think I must be cold, They do not know The numbness which protects me.
People who see me Think I must feel shame, They do not realize That I am past caring.
People who see me Look away in guilt, They think I should not be What I am.
People who see me Do not see That I live in a different world.
-Anna Stirling Pope, June 2004
YOU ARE READING
Is This Happiness?-- A collection of short stories and poems
PoesiaA collection of poems and short stories
