I have never met you, and you've never met me...
But even upon that, you judge...
so tell me what you see.
Tell me...
do you see,
this lost and lonely soul without a friend,
or a lively happy spirit,
never wanting life to end?
Do you see the pain I have to swallow,
each and every day...
or is all of this unclear to you,
and you don't know what to say.
Tell me, am I mysterious?
Is there darkness that lurks behind my eyes?
Or am I comprehensible...
Can you tell these choices are lies?
So tell me,
do you think you know me,
if you only pick and choose...
Out of these few selections.
I'm sorry.
But you lose.
I am but a book,
And I have been read to such an extent...
That now I'm losing pages,
and I don't know where they have went.
My story,
now cut short,
losing many pages...
Has become even more torn,
as I have been passed down through the ages.
So how can you read my story...
When there are bits and pieces gone?
For now there is so much missing,
I'm not sure if I will live to see another dawn.
So never stop to stare,
at a cover that is much to weak...
For how can you judge my cover,
if a cover is barely there?
Have you ever stopped to look...
deeply in my eyes?
I'm sure you would see differently...
Than the answers from a distance,
that could be trustless lies.
Until then I remain a mystery.
Is she this or that?
Who knows...
But as always you can't tell a book by its cover,
as you cannot tell a person
by their clothes...
An individuals tale,
runs deep through their blood and veins...
So until you learn to decipher me...
You know nothing of my pain.
"Don't judge a book by it's cover."
Christina
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