You Paint Me

You paint me  

In shades of chaos,  

As if I am the storm  

That craves the drama.  

But it is your hands  

Digging in the dirt,  

Unearthing stories  

That never existed.  

You imagine me  

Mentally sound,  

Seeking only eyes  

To feed on my performance.  

But I know  

This stage is yours,  

And your scripts are written  

In misunderstandings.  

You say I don’t love  

Your friend  

For the essence of him,  

As though my heart  

Is a shallow well.  

But you don't see  

How deep it runs,  

How it overflows  

With the truth of us.  

Fortunately,  

I am not the mirage  

You created  

In your fractured lens.  

I am here  

With open hands  

And a heart that beats  

With sincerity.  

And maybe one day  

You’ll see  

The real me  

Beneath the misconceptions.  

But until then,  

I will be  

Unapologetically  

Whole.