I often look out the window
and wonder
if the world i see
sees me too?
Does it see
the scars on my wrist,
the swollen eyes,
that tell a story
of monsters and men
and all things gory?
Or does it just see
the glint
that glimmers with hope,
hope and fantasies
to someday soar the skies
like I thought I would?
Does it not see scarred hands
but hands with fervour
that recite tales
of strength and sacrifice.
If only I knew
what the world could see
I could look within
and find the courage to stand.
To stand for what i deserve,
To stand against what was served
If only I knew
what the world could see,
I'd realize my ability.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 2:12 AM UTC
I often look out the window
and wonder
if the world i see
sees me too?
Does it see
the scars on my wrist,
the swollen eyes,
that tell a story
of monsters and men
and all things gory?
Or does it just see
the glint
that glimmers with hope,
hope and fantasies
to someday soar the skies
like I thought I would?
Does it not see scarred hands
but hands with fervour
that recite tales
of strength and sacrifice.
If only I knew
what the world could see
I could look within
and find the courage to stand.
To stand for what i deserve,
To stand against what was served
If only I knew
what the world could see,
I'd realize my ability.
Request permission to use this poem