Does anyone read this?
Can they see my life?
Laid out for them on paper I write?
Of stories of novels of things I adore
Of characters and friends and families and more
Do they see my troubles I've placed so carefully in here
Or do they fly by something you skim past and forget
Are you here? Am I here?
Do I matter? Or the latter?
Do you care? Can you see me?
A girl made up of words and rhyming
But is it worth it if no one can see me?
Does my life believe that I must be noticed?
Or does it simply mean i hide in the shadows?
A girl of words and rhymes
Of pens and time
Of silly little things making up and filling her mind
A girl of secrets and knowledge
Of observation and all
But is it worth it if she doesn't glow?
Is it worth it if no one knows?