They ask I say that im ok, but im not.
They hear and accept, what is not.
I long to think, that someone cares.
But more and more, they show they do not.
They look skin deep, and no further.
Because looking further might mean seeing more then they want.
It would mean seeing that, i am not this shell i portray.
It might mean seeing, I'm not okay.
They see that smooth surface sheen, ignore the ugly broken seams.
That run through me, mark my faults.
Bury me, in all my doubts.
Look past the skin and all you see, is pain and pain to the nth degree.
And loneliness bitter crushing, this tired soul so sick of nothing.
So sick of all the things he tries, that time again always die.
Sick of myself, i pour these words.
From mind and mouth, to screen and board.
I pour quickly out and out, to keep myself from drowning out.
I wish that one would see through me, but all my friends see but skin deep.
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