Universe

I walk looking around like an empty

box or an old book,

with a scratched 

cover.

People look past me because I don't 

appear brilliant, or

fun.  I don't look

happy.

They assume I have nothing

to say, because

I'm a little scratched on

the surface,

but that's not true 

at all.  

I have a lot to 

say,

on the inside, I am

bright and full

of words that you couldn't

understand

because you are too 

shallow to look 

past my outside to 

see

my insides

show a different tale,

I feel like a million

shining lights

sparkling and

glistening.

Maybe there is a whole

universe

just waiting to 

be discovered by 

someone who isn't afraid to

look past my 

damages.