This was my pain, that you thought was happiness;
Splattered on my wall, crying with me;
Laughing with you, at you;
It held my wall for it was in pain, it wanted to fall off;
But it stayed, what made it stay so long?
You humor me.
Answer to that- I don’t know, I can’t know.
It is for me to feel, you to see;
Yet it is for me to cry and you to ignore;
It was there, for naked eye to see, but I was clever;
You are foolish, because it was for visible, with your eyes, you could see;
It stood there dying, with me, didn’t you see?
I cry with it, live with it, it knows my pain.
The pain painted and written, ignored and betrayed.
Were you willing to see it, because if you were, why didn’t you see it?