You can't fill empty spaces
that lay within my heart.
Can you hear the tears
that are tearing us apart?
You think you know me,
it's hard for me to tell.
You've broken my fingers,
I can't extend my hand.
If you want me to save you,
I won't do it on command.
You think you know me,
but your words aren't mine.
Your voice is a stranger,
who did you used to be?
If you look in the mirror,
you won't see me.
You think you know me,
we're too different to tell.
You used to hold me,
now I stand alone.
You think you've saved me
from the world I'm not shown.
You think you know me?
I don't even know who I am.
that lay within my heart.
Can you hear the tears
that are tearing us apart?
You think you know me,
it's hard for me to tell.
You've broken my fingers,
I can't extend my hand.
If you want me to save you,
I won't do it on command.
You think you know me,
but your words aren't mine.
Your voice is a stranger,
who did you used to be?
If you look in the mirror,
you won't see me.
You think you know me,
we're too different to tell.
You used to hold me,
now I stand alone.
You think you've saved me
from the world I'm not shown.
You think you know me?
I don't even know who I am.
4 comments:
Before I comment on this piece, I have to ask-- doesn't your mom read this? And since when is it a good idea to complain about your editor/publisher in public? But I digress.
Again, the Perry form, as I am calling it...the thing that is most real about this poem for me is the way you say at the end "You think you know me?/I don't even know who I am." That struck a chord for me.
No, my mom apparently has better things to do. But she's there for me when it really counts, so I'm alright with that. But when did I complain about my editor/publisher in public?
I enjoy the Perry form :)
Well, if you really think about it, no one really can know who they are; that's what life is all about: discovering something in ourselves that no one else can see. It's a journey, and being as young as I am, I am far from finding what lies for me at the end of the road. :)
I can tell you this, though: I may not be very far along, but I am the only one who can hear my own thoughts, and I am the only one who knows my own needs. If anyone thinks thinks they know me better than I know myself, it can't possibly be true. Yes, my mother has seen me develop into a "woman", but she hasn't seen what I've done or heard what I've thought in order to get to where I am now.
*Ahem* To conclude (wow, that sounded stuffy, didn't it?), I don't know who I am, but I've got more of a general idea than anyone in this world. =D
Noice!
And Gina meant to say "publicist" not "publisher" btw
Word Verification: comees
a cute but incorrect way of saying "you eeeat" in Spanish
I was referring to your mother being you editor and publicist :)
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