She is the unknown
but known to me.

In my thoughts,
she lives,
cries and
breathes.
The knowledge I have of her,
should be darkness,
something non existent,
but she is too familiar to my heart.

Why is the question
which neither she or I can answer.

My knowledge of her, haunts her,
she fears my eyes,
for before them
she is naked, she can't hide,
hide behind her masks and fake smiles
hide behinde enything and everything,

I see the essence of her,
she can no longer remain the unseen.
I see her.
for that I am the hated one.

She is the unknown,
but known to me.