Filter

I see the world through a filter.
From the corner of my eyes I see gloomy skies.
Is that what everyone else sees?
Because it's such a pity that they do not see the white clouds I do.
Or do I pity myself, for not seeing reality?
Whatever it is, I choose to believe.
That the filter covering my eyes are there for a purpose.
Perhaps to protect my dear, dear heart.

#2

He doesnt wave cause he's shy
But by the time i saw the look in his eye
It wasnt shyness, no it wasnt
Its cause his heart was cold and frozen

#1

He likes me, he might like me, he likes me not.

He likes me,
I can tell from a red hue.
He likes me,
I can tell from the soulful peepers.
He likes me,
I can hear accelerated heartbeat.
He likes me,
I can hear him filtering his tongue.
He might like me,
He left me notes.
He might like me,
He smiled at me.
He might like me,
He stutters his name.
He likes me not,
His hands are occupied.
He likes me not,
He stutters my name.

Red hue from running,
Soulful peepers my reflection.
Accelerated heartbeat my own,
Filtered tongue uncomfortable.
Notes meant for someone else,
Smile a polite gesture,
Stutters dont reflect nerves,
It's reluctance and hesitance.
The hand he holds, holds his heart.
Im barely ever on his mind.