I've realized that
You never really looked at me-
Just through me.

You completely disregarded
My stories and tales
My spectacular (and not-so spectacular) adventures
My music preferences
My favorite things
My love for the sport cricket
My hate of roller coasters
My fear of dying pointless to the world
All the things that make me me

You never made the effort
You never really cared
You never did much of anything, actually

It's that feeling inside
Bubbly and Filling
Expanding through you
Making you burst at the seams

It's that feeling inside
Happy and joyful
Coursing within you
Making everything seem just right

It's that feeling inside
Bright and cheerful
Shining through everything you do
Making the world shine with you

It's that feeling inside
that appears only sometimes
But makes you realize
how much more there is to life

It doesn't seem like much
At least not at first
Just light little lines
Appearing so quickly
Seeming so innocent

But then the blood rushes up
And fills in the careful lines
Steadily in the beginning
But then you realize
That its not going to stop

Now they resemble smudges
A bit like a child's finger painting
Messy and uncontrolled
Varying shades of life's juice
Creating an unknown picture

Cool water pours down
Everything drips
Pink stains appear
But at last the blood runs out
Taking with it more than you know

Nobody gives a ****
Never did, never will
Would you?
I don't believe you.

Everyone cares about their
image.
That portrayal of self to those
unknown.
Dare anything threaten this
fragile, precariously put together item
and the world stops to help rid itself
of the threat.

Hopelessness
is a threat to perfection
Sadness, despair-
threats to perfection
Anxiety or depression?
Also threats to perfection
Everything that's not
pristine and proper
or bright and joyful
or conforming and obedient
is a
threat

And believe me, you treat it as such.