There are pictures that I can draw,
That can destroy me,
And you,
Truth is hurtful,
And most times unsaid.

I wish you looked into me,
Sometimes,
Just sometimes,
So that you saw,
I have blue mountains,
Trees and lovely birds,
In me.

My laughter,
Hides many of me,
My tears,
Break me,
I am what I am,
Broke and glued,
Torn and stitched.