Author's note: Hello, everyone! ^-^ This is the second poem type thing

 I've written and it's also from Tomoyo's point of view. I admit it's 

 a little strange, but I was in an awkward mood while I was writing it.

 ^-^;;; Anyway, I really hope you all enjoy it at the least. ^-^ If 

 you have the time, please e-mail me what you think. ^-^

 

 Empty Coffin

 By Amazoness Duo

 amazonessduo@hotmail.com

 

 When the lights go out, you go to sleep.

 And I’m free to finally be myself.

 By myself.

 But even I don’t know who I am. 

 I’m left wondering who this person is.

 And why she always seems so sad. 

 Always on the edge of chaos.

 Just a tiny push...

 

 No one sees the little girl.

 No one sees the tears.

 That’s not how I want it. 

 But is it my fault? 

 Are the masks I wear too good?

 Do they hide me from you so well that you can’t see me?

 I demand that you see me for who I am. 

 That you look past the masks, past the layers to the girl underneath.

 That you finally see the tears. 

 But I know that you can’t.

 Because I won’t allow you to.

 I stand in the shadows as you pass, letting them envelope me.

 Caress me.

 Consume me. 

 

 I am happy, quirky, thoughtful, helpful.

 I am sad, lonely, depressing, suicidal.

 I am two halves of one whole. 

 But I am not complete. 

 What you see, what you think you see, is not what is in front of you.

 You see what I want you to see, what you want to see.

 And that girl is not me. 

 I hate her. 

 And I know that she hates me.

 The same way you would hate me, if you only knew.

 

 Do you know that my smiles are tinged with fear?

 That my laughs are covering tears?

 That my words cover silence deeper than the rips in my soul?

 No, because for you it’s not there. 

 No one sees me. 

 No one hears my screams or my sobs. 

 But that’s all right, I guess.

 Because they would never understand. 

 Because even I don’t understand the girl in the mirror.

 

 I don’t want to be alone.

 But I always am.

 Even in a crowded room. 

 A crowd is not company.

 They are a gallery of faces.

 Just as I am merely a painting, showing only what they want to see,

 Hiding the fear, the pain, and insecurities from plain view.

 

 I’m nailed to the floor, calling out a name.

 The pain, the heartache, gnaws at my soul as I struggle to escape.

 But everyone gets mad, they all get angry when I try. 

 No one wants me to leave, but no one cares if I stay. 

 I don’t understand at all. 

 I don’t want to go, but I have to get out. 

 I’m trapped in this dungeon, unable to flee the stares that haunt me.

 If I stay here much longer, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold up this lie.

 I want to be the truth, I want to fly free.

 So why won’t anyone let me soar?

 

 If I died tomorrow, no one would notice I was gone.

 Just like a shadow, no one ever saw me in the first place.

 And they would bury my empty coffin, never thinking to look at the girl who 

 was never there.

 So in the end, I have to wonder if I ever was.

 Am I just an afterthought? 

 Here to give a little shading to the surroundings?

 Or was I just never finished?

 I’m incomplete, an unfinished product.

 All sorts of broken pieces and insecurities and half finished characteristics 

 hastily thrown together.

 I’m in the bargain bin, the finished product will be shipped next Tuesday.

 I don’t make sense at all.

 I’m contradictory to my very existence.

 

 Icy cold rivers guide my way through a dense forest. 

 I can’t see my way, the current leading me further and further through the 

 darkness.

 Where am I going and why?

 Will I ever know?

 Will someone ever tell me?

 I want to be your angel. 

 I want you to hold me, to know me for who I truly am.

 But I’m too covered in shadows, draped in darkness.

 My dreams are too close to nightmares now. 

 I’m afraid of myself, afraid of who or what I am. 

 But I smile. 

 And still everyone walks past, not seeing me anymore than if I was never there.

 And I wonder if that just means I’m successful at masking who I am.

 So successful that I can hide from everyone. 

 That no one will ever know who I really am. 

 That nothing can touch my cold, shredded heart.

 Lucky me.

 I’m so happy.

 So I’ll cry.

 

 Everyone has secrets that they long to hide.

 They forever keep them locked away, hoping that no one will unearth them.

 Burying them in the backyard, keeping them hidden by flowers and meaningless 

 conversation and barbecues.

 I am the secret and I’m struggling to get free. 

 I want you to know me. 

 I want to get rid of the girl that pretends she’s me,

 Smiling and sweet, kind and gentle.

 The one you forget while she’s still in the same room as you.

 My sweet little twin that makes all of her appearances the few times I’m around 

 people.

 I watch the whole thing from the shadows, unseen by all, but seeing her trying 

 so hard to please.

 If I killed her, would anyone notice? 

 Of course not.

 But then I could be your nightmare. 

 

 In the end, what is more real?

 The me that everyone sees all day, or the me that only I know?

 Seeing is believing and that demon that only appears when the lights are out or 

 the doors are all closed

 Is nothing more than a myth to all those that ‘know’ me.

 In that case, believe what you will. 

 I’ll always be that girl for you.

 Smiling and sweet, kind and forgettable. 

 But inside my empty coffin, I’ll continue to scream into the darkness.

 And only I will hear it, through my laughter.