[Instrumental Intro] [Verse 1] Don’t tell me that you see me when you’ve only memorized my outline— the shape I fold into when the room demands silence, the smile I wear like borrowed skin. You trace shadows, then swear you’ve mapped the soul beneath. But you’ve never walked the silence between my thoughts or heard the echo when I speak to myself. [Pre-Chorus] You love the performance, but not the pause. You quote my confessions like they were written for applause. [Chorus] Don’t tell me that you see me when all you’ve done is stare. I am not the mask you mirrored— I’m the breath beneath the glare. Don’t carve me out of comfort. Don’t color in my scars. You can’t know what I am if you only look from far. [Instrumental] [Verse 2] You say my name like punctuation. Like it means the end of silence but not the start of understanding. I’ve been seen a hundred times and known not once. Eyes scrape the surface, but never sink— and when I scream, they say it’s poetry, not pain. [Bridge] To see me is to sit in the fire and not ask when it ends. To know me is to fold the pages that I’ve hidden from my friends. It is not the way I dance alone, but why I never ask to lead. It is not the bloom, but the soil where I bleed. [Instrumental] [Final Chorus] So don’t tell me that you see me. Don’t frame me in your light. You’ve memorized the rhythm, but you never heard the fight. I’m not your quiet canvas. I’m not your tender myth. Don’t tell me that you see me— if you won’t sit with what you missed. [instrumental Outro]
