You don’t really know me

You don't really know me,

I don't think you ever tried.

You never really see me,

Even when I am alight.

I am an open book,

But you don't read between the lines;

You keep skipping chapters,

and miss the meaningful signs.

Surely,

When you truly love somebody,

You want to protect them.

You want them to feel sheltered,

You only want what is best for them.

You don't cut them off suddenly,

For some words you took wrong;

You don't ignore them begging 

For answers or explanations.

I am passionate,

But also burnt and scarred;

And those expectations you place on me,

Are so high.

I just can't reach those stars.

You don't really know me,

I don't think you ever tried.

I have a heart spiked with thorns,

That bled too many times.

My life is paved with damaged stones.

My days filled with pain and unpredictable storms;

You only see that I did not open the door,

But the door was locked,

And I was struggling to get up from the floor.

I wished you had tried to know me

A little bit more.

My heart is still bleeding

In front of the closed door.