When I meet your gaze, I see that you are staring at me— Not my figure, or size. But you are staring at me as if I am made of glass, Witnessing all that I am made of. Knowing my innermost workings, And which way the tide turns Within me. You gaze upon me With truthful eyes, Seeing who I truly am And what I have a chance To become, Instead of what others may whisper Behind backs and closed doors.
