I wonder what people see when they first look at you,

are they nervous?

Are they afraid?

Do they wonder about your thoughts?

Or do they see you as an everyday person?

Or do they think you look kind,

You left dead flowers at my grave,

as if they were all the same.

Most leave bouquets,

even though they will slowly die,

just like me til I made it to the afterlife.

I hate you,

I hate the way you make me feel,

and the way you talk to me.

I hate how you look at me,

like no one else is in the room.

I hate how when I sit next to you,