You see me as an object. I see you as flesh and blood.
You see me as a dollar sign. I see you as a person.
You see me as something to gain from. I see you as human.
You see me, and you look right through me.

I see you and I can see everything.
I see what I thought was beauty. What I thought was love. What I thought was kind.

You see me and think of what you gave me. You gave me heartache. How you raised me. You didn’t. Your hand in shaping me, yet you only constructed pain.

You saw me as a burden when I should’ve been your blessing.
You saw difficulty when I should’ve been your comfort.
You saw a pledge you knew you were never able to keep.

What you don’t see is the damage. You don’t see the confusion.
You don’t see the tears. You don’t see the agony.

You see me as the perfection that you created that you only want recognition for.
You see accomplishment you tell yourself your hand was in.

What you don’t see is the anger. You don’t see the animosity.
You don’t see the torment. You don’t see the misery.

You see what you want to see. You see the lies that are now the only reality you have.

I see an existance of forgery that is my life.
I know what is fact and now have resentment that I have to lift on shoulders that are breaking.

You see me and think I’m naïve. That I don’t notice you. That I haven’t noted your every word.
That I haven’t heeded your every move.
You see me and see nothing.
You believe you see who I really am.

What you don’t see is the realization that I had to come to about you.
You were nonexistent. You had no impact on who I came to be.
The appreciation you so long for doesn’t appertain to you.
It will never be yours.
You see me and see what you wanted to be.
You’ll never see me and be elated for me.
All I see is the jealousy. The spite. The grudge you hold against me.

You did nothing to form me. You did nothing to mold me.
You did nothing to conceive the core of my being.

You did everything to crush me. To mislead me.
You did everything to misuse my love for you. My hunger for your affection.
You fazed me in an imperfect way that I now must compromise with.

I need to open the wounds you carved to heal them but only to the point of minimal scaring.

You don’t see what I must overcome to get better.
You see none of this.
How can you not see what you’ve done?

Do you even see me at all?