Everyone looks right through me.
Every day they notice me.
But no one really sees me.
They touch me gently when I'm warm.
I'm a breath of fresh air.
They open me up with delight
When I promise a good day.
But when the sky turns grey,
They all turn away...
They can't handle the truth of my cold insides,
And so, they shut me closed.
I'm so easy to see through.
You think you can see right into the world.
But once you've noticed my cracks and smudges,
The outside never really looks the same...
Does it?
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
Everyone looks right through me.
Every day they notice me.
But no one really sees me.
They touch me gently when I'm warm.
I'm a breath of fresh air.
They open me up with delight
When I promise a good day.
But when the sky turns grey,
They all turn away...
They can't handle the truth of my cold insides,
And so, they shut me closed.
I'm so easy to see through.
You think you can see right into the world.
But once you've noticed my cracks and smudges,
The outside never really looks the same...
Does it?
