I'm used to people misunderstanding me.
I'm used to people looking at me and wondering have I ever seen brighter days.
Yes, my eyes are an empty, hollowed hole which seems no light ever reaches.
My lips are burnt black from kissing flames lite from the ones I've trusted.
My skin is an tired, old violin that just doesn't want to keep playing.
But...I am not what you see.
You see a depressed, lonely, broken girl
While I see magic. Raised up from the cold ground like smoke and drifting through the air like a witch that refused to burn.
Yes, I image myself as a witch. A different being, creature, hell a monster picked out from the crowd of those who wish to be the same.
I am used to people getting bored of me.
I am used to people mistreating me.
I am used to people skimming their eyes over me as if I never existed...
And maybe I don't exist. Not in their fake, dreaming world...I am awake.
I am awake...and I guess I'll have to alone.
No shame comes with that...no shame.