Poetry:

The Last Piece to Me

I think of what I am not
What if me is only what I pretend
No one thinks of me the way I fake
No one sees me, the way I do

How can I be expected to be alone
Does no one see through me; my eyes; my soul?
I try so hard to keep the sand of my truth from slipping through
How can I hate nothing
I can’t hate or love myself
Can you, who loves me, hear? Can you see?
SEE ME!
I’m so lonely; but a mask works well

Through my eyes I see so much love, sadness and hate
All things become apart of me
I want to hide from it all

But please, to the one who knows the object of my speaking, loving, living
See Me!

'00
Thomas A. McDonley