In a crowd, instead of seeing you.
I only see me.
My eyes, my skin, my hair,
My imperfections.
I often stare at the wall.
A blank, smooth surface.
Boring. Plain.
Is that me?
I guess it’s better than a mirror.
Is it?
A wall doesn’t show me what I’ve got wrong.
My eyes, my skin, my hair.
The way I breathe,
Live.
I see you every day.
Your eyes, your skin, your hair.
Your perfections.
I see you every day and cry.
Only on the inside.
I keep it inside.
I look in the mirror and only see you.
Why can’t I just be you?
Your eyes, your skin, your hair.
The way you glow,
Bloom.
I’m just different.
I’ve got it wrong, so wrong.
In a crowd of people,
I don’t belong.
Why am I the way I am?
I’m always told,
appreciate your differences.
But I don’t want to.
Your eyes, your skin, your hair.
Your everything.
Your perfect.
I want to be you.
In a crowd, I only see a weeping me.
And hundreds of perfect yous.
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