I
I have prepared many,
Hoping that they’ll see.
But they never saw any.
And their words stung like a bee.
II
Walking, talking, everything.
Showing the world, being me.
Head shaking, disapproving gaze,
They don’t like me being in glee.
III
Good job, good works; blinded,
They don’t see.
My smile, my laugh, the things that I am,
Seen, like the sun, though they don’t like me.
