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do they c ?
People are judging,
 But they don’t see,
 What I see in my mind.
 They don’t see;
 The pain in my heart,
 Or the fear in my eyes.
 What they see,
 Is only what I pretend to be.
 All they see is what’s on the outside,
 A pasted on smile.
  
 People are starting to wonder;
 Why I cry.
 They are piecing it together,
 Bit by bit.
 But do they really know;
 What I went through or how I feel?
 Can they even convey,
  That what I’m going through is real ?

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