My Sad Face

Who told you I was a song you could sing
With melancholic tones and melodramatic lines
Who to sorrow would much company bring
And musically enchant your sober whines

Who told you I was a book you could read
When what left of your joy had been deprived
One that would make your heart melt and bleed
And make your life seem less denied

Who told you I was  a poem of love
That you claimed you wrote and gave to her
To make yourself seem like some angel from above
Hiding on whole the person you were

And what made you think I was a blank page to write
Plain and white with ample space
That you scribbled and doodled with all your might
And left me with nothing but my sad face