I see you.

I see you evade being noticed in the crowd because you have no success stories to tell.
I see you watch your mates carry their toddlers but all you carry is your Lui Vitton bag.

I see you dash out as soon as church is over to escape the onslaught of inconvenient chitchats.
I see you’ve developed cold shoulder to any and everything around you.

I see you beat a retreat whenever you see him in sight.
I see your out and about is just to silence the screams within.

I see your rudeness is only a front for fear of being taken for granted.
I see you’re stuck up for fear your vulnerability will become too apparent.

I see your tears through the years.
I see your frights through the nights

I see your sighs. I hear your Whys
You show you’re fine. But I know otherwise.

Your age has caged you.
Your loss has boxed you.

I see you.

But.