You Don’t Know Me

You do all these things for me,
That I love,
Making me think that
You actually understand me.

One misunderstanding,
One argument,
And so much is said,
Which makes me realise that
You know nothing about me.

Yes, you know my exterior self,
But do you know how I actually am?
What and how I feel?

You assume too many things,
And jump to conclusions
That are all false.

You feel that you’ve got me all figured out
By how I am around you.
Which, by the way,
Is completely wrong.

Maybe, for once,
Try to think of things from my point of view
To, perhaps, understand me better.

Because if not,
You don’t have any right to say anything about me.


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