Let me tell you about me
People look at me,
Like I am a thing that came from outer space.
They look at my height, my clothes, my wrists, my thighs, but not at me.
They say things like you are small or you wear really weird clothes.
Why don't you wear shorts or why do you have bracelets on one wrist.
But none of them ask me why I am me.
No asked me why I can be sad, but paint a smile on my face just to get through the day. None of them ask why my eyes are rimmed with tears but I say that everything is okay. That is the biggest lie, I am okay.
No one asked me why I don't fit in or that i need a friend.
No, they asked what is on the outside, not what is in the inside.
That is all they see, is the outside.