the real me

The real me
Who is she?
Does she have a name?
What will I call her, when I actually see her?

What do I know of her?
Well, I know that she is fed up with the world
That there is little she cares about

What does she wear?
The real me wears nothing at all
She is naked

She is a child
Unknowing, lost
She doesn't care
She doesn't move
She is silent
And yet she cries

She cries everyday
She cries all the time
She cries for you and she cries for me
She cries for those who don't know
She cries for those who can never know…