A Perfect Image
Am I everything you place me to be?
Am I beautiful, amazing, kind, caring?
How can you think I'm so great?
You all place me on this pedestal.
Praising me, telling me I'm everything you'd want to be.
But I'm not.
I'm not this perfect person you play me as.
I'm not a pristine glass image splayed with color and adornments.
I'm a piece of shattered glass, plain, and forever broken.
There is nothing separating me from the crowd.
I blend in as if I weren't there.
When someone looks at me,
They see simple, quiet, and nothing more.
Yet you see greatness, extravagance, perfection.
How is your perception of me so warped?
Is it truly warped?
Or is it my outlook that's distorted?
