You ever get the feeling that someone is watching from far behind you? You ever feel like someone is watching your every move?
Like someone is standing by, waiting patiently for you to make a mistake?
Well, unfortunately, someone is actually watching, just not closely watching, so relax you don't have a stalker, unless you take someone or something that observes you carefully without saying a word or taking their eyes off you, as a stalker then, yes dear I believe you have a 'stalker'. That 'stalker', however, is a different kind. This kind looks down upon you, because of the clothes you wear, the things you do, as well as how you act.
This "stalker's" name is: society, but remember if you want society off your case, then get off society's case
She has a beautiful smile.
She has lovely eyes.
Her voice is melodies of gold, played as platinum records on the drums of my ears.
Her skin as soft as her heart with a touch as gentle as the love she could have if she loved herself enough, to get loved.
Her self esteem is deflated by sharp words that puncture wounds into her perfection, so she's constantly rejecting gestures of compliments because all she knows is her imperfection.
Put her in a dark room and she'd still wonder about her reflection.
If her soul could reflect her physical appeal, would she then see how beautiful she could be if she she could free herself from those who find satisfaction from stealing her beauty.
Seems like her walls are twice as high as her confidence, cause her flaws got high on insults, and no matter how many compliments she drank, she was never drunk long enough for her to forget what insults sounded like.
I mean, I've had one conversation with her. She never said much, but I heard so much more than what she could say. I could tell her eyes were curious about me, but her mind reminded her that if she got too close, I'd never be mindful of her.
According to her, my aim is at her flaws. She sees me holding a gun full of emotionally draining bullets. She thinks I plan on firing her the same way her self esteem burned her so much that she can't tell a flame from a spark, so every conversation I try and spark, she puts it out with her flame of disbelief. She fights fire with fire.
Baby, I'm just trying to extinguish your fire so you never get burned again.
It hurts seeing the one you love, love another
What hurts more is hearing the one you love speak of the one they love, but it ain't you.
I hurts having to pretend that you are happy that he's found someone he loves, especially when that person won't love him like you do.
Some days you just wanna tell him that "hey, I'm right here, I've always been here."
Other days you just long for him to hold you and never let you go.
Then it hits you: he does love you, but here's the catch; he loves like he loves his little sister.
He'll never see you as anything other than that and you have to make peace with that fact.
I take one last look at the girl in the mirror
The first thing she asks me is;"Am I pretty enough?"
I look at her from top to bottom, bottom to top, and
I notice she's doing the exact same thing.
I step closer and she does the same.
She asks me one last time:"Am I pretty enough?"
Before I answer her, she asks something else:
"Will I ever be pretty enough?"
To which I reply:"The day you and I are pretty enough, will be the day when the clouds turn gold and the sun is non-existant."
That is when I see all the hope and life in her eyes, die out.
— The End —