What do you see when you look at me?
A child?
A hero?
A coward?
A queen?
You never speak of what you feel,
So how can I ever tell what's real?
What do you hear when I speak to you?
Silence?
Intelligence?
Chatter?
Stupidity?
I try to tell you about my dreams,
You're not interested; or so it seems.
What do you say when I ask for your time?
"Not now"
"Maybe later"
"We'll see"
"How about some other day?"
All this time, how can you not see?
The one thing I want most is to make you proud of me.
