Love, Life, Hate

He says I'm beautiful just by looking at the surface. He says I'm perfect yet close his eyes to the scars on my body. He compliments my smile yet fail to see its a disguise for my pain. He admires my hair without knowing how many times I've wanted to cut it all off due to the discomfort. He talks about how pure and spotless I look without seeing the blood flowing down my skin. The whips life and love gave me had torn me inside out, he sees the outside and promise to care, what care is there to offer the skin I so much hate if my soul is weak and crying and without a cure. He sees, He says but not who I really am nor my true pain.