This girl is lonely.
She is weak but kind.
She had been hurt.
She lives in her mind.
But this me you see.
What am I?
Who is she?
Is she complex like you?
Does she feel?
Does she cry too?
This ******* the page.
You only see these words.
Words of sadness and rage.
A version of me in everyone’s head.
What an interesting thought.
From all the words I’ve said.
You’ve created an image, a life.
This version of me you know.
I wonder if that me feels this strife.
If you think about it, everyone we meet, whether it’s a friend or just someone passing by, creates a version of who you are in their mind. Then there’s this version of you that is in your mind. The version you know. Well that version you know isn’t even real.
