I cry in the office room with my father

Sobs drowned by voices from talking box

Mascara-black tear tracks run down my face

Like neon arrows pointing out my emotions

I don’t wear mascara, but sadness stains my tears like dye

And it’s so obvious, so goddamn obvious

But when talking boxes cease and

My father extends a hand, sideways smile

He doesn’t see

How does he not see

I walk to the room of masters

She’s smothered by blankets

Punching her phone in anger

I say nothing as I grab mine

Because no words can cut tensions like this

They’ll just bounce back and cut me

And i’m already bled dry, the drying tears

And bloodstains are evidence enough 

But she doesn’t see, obviously 

She ignores the wounds of her own creation

I walk hallways alone, head down

Shoulders weighed down with burdens so clear

But see me with friends, you see a bright smile

Shoulders drooping with just the weight of my backpack

Yet in moments of weakness, eyes glass over

I hold them back, but sometimes they fall

And it seems so obvious, so clear

But they never see

I am a poet, I make paintings of letters

My syllables are flags fluttering in winds of glory

I write of things you cannot see and give them names

Call forth beasts others keep hidden

I write of pain and sorrow and hurt

I draw weeping women in the stars 

With tears so large you drown in them

They all surround me and ask

If I was hurting, how I hid it, why I did

I can only smile sadly, shrug, walk away

Because I didn’t hide, you just never saw

And believe me when I say, it was obvious 

But I supposed nothing is to the blind