Poetry of sorts

Eyes

                            I see you on the ceiling,
                             I see you on the floor.
                            Even though your gone,
                      I still see you at my front door.

                              You only talk to me.
                      Talking nonstop about family,
                       saying at school you feel free.

                          You try to talk to people,
                               but they ignore you.
                                  All townspeople
                        seem to walk through you.

                        But you don't seem to care,
                         you just say life's not fair.

                                     But one day
                                    you will care.
                            You'll start to wonder,
                         why know one will stare?

                                  Are you small?
                      Are you just easy to ignore?
                                No, that's not it.
                                 You'll scream,
                                   "Why then!?"
                                 "I can't admit."
                            "Why? Am I unfit?"
                                          "No."
                                  "Then what?"

                              I'll tell you straight
                                   so listen well.
                           You had horrible fate,
                                       you fell
                           and were left to dwell.
                                        
                                    It was dark,
                     and you weren't at my house.
                                 We found you,
                                      you bled,
                           and were found dead.