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
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