My mom used to say,
"Don't cry, you'll leave permanent tears on your face."
As a young child, I didn't understand.
My brother objected, smug and saying, "That's not true, tears can dry up."
My mom just smiled and said, "I hope you don't see it when you're older."
Now, I didn't understand, and I sided with my brother.

As the years went on, I could feel what others thought of me.
I could finally feel their glares and recognize the harsh meanings behind their words.
I slowly backed away, but no one noticed.
If they did, they were fine with it.

Being a "wretched outcast",
I looked for new shelter.
A new environment where I could feel safe.
I never made it to the promised land.

When I finally gave up,
I cried.
I poured out my feelings on paper,
my pain filled into countless notebooks.

When I look into a mirror,
I finally see it.
The permanent tear tracks.