When they look at me, I’m a blank page
There is no question why nothing is there, just room to write their own story
On my surface, they see a chance to express themselves
But nothing is permanent, and I am not permeable

When you look at me, the words start involuntarily writing themselves
Telling everything I think, feel, want to say but can’t
The words fill up the page until you’re looking through glass
And everything I am is on the other side

The way you look at me makes me want to show you
The way that you know me makes me glad I’ve come to know you
The way you see the real me makes me never want to fake it
And the way you see through me like glass…
Just makes me want to break it.