Beautiful

Sometimes I wake up crying

never believing when someone tells me I'm beautiful.

Closing my eyes, trying to make the world disappear, hating it when they tell me, "everything is wonderful."

Its been a lifetime of not knowing who

or when and the answers to why.

Where lives are torn apart, the sun fades it to black.

It's a secret that elsewhere far away from here, I cry.

My life shuffles by, but I don't live it.

My eyes are glazed through,

no escape, no change of heart, and not

a place to hide from you.

I try to whisper to reveal my pain

to anyone who listened to my reply.

I guess if they asked too many questions

I wouldn't know what to decide.

And they tell me I'm so cynical

they tell me I could make the angels fall

because I'm so pretty. But

the truth is, I don't care at all.

Even though I make it through

each day, somehow I've learned

that the deepest pain, even if others think you're beautiful,

is to be in love but not have that love returned.