An ode to the unspecific-s.
Standing on the sidelines, never in the spotlight
Speak; but not much, oh don't you step over that line
Look above, to the bird soaring high in the sky
Caged you might be, because honey you can't fly
So clap loud, somebody had to stay behind
You're the stray strands of a rope
You're the second knot to keep the first strong
You're the crumpled pages and the leftover ink
The first draft to the upcoming masterpiece
You're the filler chapters before that plot twist
The supporting character that just won't quit
You push around or get pushed around
The backup option—forever your name
You hold doors open, and light their cigarettes
Behind the camera, fixing the lights
In the picture, make them look better
You may be the wise voice, or even the funny one
Scoot a little away, yep that's your place
We lo- no, like you but you go unnoticed,
We don't want you, we don't
Instead, we need you. Oh we do.
Each one of you.