Perspective makes a poor man rich,

a looking glass makes paper seem thick.
To me you are the queen of hearts,
to you, your life is falling apart.

Through my eyes,
we are the only constant things.
In your viewpoint,
we cannot fly without our wings.

I say that we can soar up high,
you say that it is all a lie.
I look at you and I see a hater,
you look at me and see a debater.

The way we see is not a lie,
a cloud can be different in the same sky.
To me, my life is everything.
To you, your life is a single string.

My stare could cut that holding thread,
your eyes could see a better life instead.
It matters not what we see,
it matters more what our perspectives could be.