Why do they need to see
What it’s like to truly be me?
They see me from the outside,
Never really looking on the inside.
But the inside is most valuable,
Complete with a mind and a soul.
They refuse to search for something unseen
Underneath the sky of pure pristine.
You see,
My shell is a mask
made of small pieces of breakable glass.
The inside is impenetrable and will always live
On the surviving hope to never truly be gone.
But really what they see is a façade
That is corrupt underneath a fraud.
So why then,
Don’t you take a look
On the inside?
Read me like a banned book.
And all that you will find
Is a mask unseen
From an inevitable
View of the true real me.