Maybe if you looked into my eyes for once,

Then you’d be able to peer deeper into my soul

And even catch a glimpse of this broken heart of mine.
Then you’d know that this is all just an act,
A foolish recital I have put on for absolutely no purpose at all.
Perhaps you’re the spectator whom this very show has been designed for.
But you don’t even realize it, do you?
You’re far too distracted by, and pre-occupied with, everything else surrounding
you.
If you’re so busy paying attention to the rest of the performers,
How are you possibly going to even notice me?
Well, sometimes I feel as if life is just one endless play,
Yet I constantly forget to rehearse my lines
Because they are simply too hard to memorize,
And I don’t put enough effort in to even try.
So, I end up ruining the entire performance
That everyone has worked so incredibly hard on putting together.
Somehow, however, you still remain watching,
Even though you’re positioned all the way in the back of the audience,
Hiding in a dark, abandoned corner
Where I can barely see you,
Since there is a sea of heads in the way,
Almost completely obstructing you from view.
I really wish you’d attempt to move up at least a few rows.
That way, you’d be able to have a clearer vision of me.
For some reason though, your eyes stay locked on the ground,
Rooted to the spot forever.
They don’t even dare to lift themselves up
Or move enough to steal a glance in my direction.
Can you feel my presence up on this stage, I wonder?
When the spotlight illuminates my miniscule figure,
Do you even notice how the light radiates off of me,
Or have you already given up and gone home by that point?
Is it worth it to even try to reprise my insignificant role in this play,
Or should I just write an entirely new screenplay altogether?
Tell me, am I here purely for your entertainment?
Is this just some meaningless comedy skit to you?
I can sense you watching this brief scene I’m acting in,
But are you really seeing me?
It seems like I’m not the only one who has forgotten her lines.
You no longer even open your mouth to speak to me anymore.
Maybe the words aren’t written in your script,
But does that mean they don’t exist?
Does that mean they’re not true?
From what I can tell, the words are still present in the very back of your mind.
I see them hidden beneath the surface, located right at the heart of your soul.
And I am convinced that’s where they’ll always remain,
Never daring to reveal themselves,
Because you’re simply too afraid to utter them
And let me know how you truly feel.
Well, then I guess you’ll never know how I feel either.
Now that we’ve both forgotten our lines in our scripts,
It’s only a matter of time before everyone else forgets theirs, too.