I love the smell of rain.
Sometimes, I imagine of the places
Far out beyond the trees that I see.
There are places where it always rains;
I think it would be nice there.

I hate the sound of malice.
Sometimes, I can feel the fear slowly creeping up my chest, tickling my throat with tiny specks of heat.
I don't really like it here.

For here is the place of the almost-good-enoughs.
The runner-ups,
The supporting roles,
the ones who weren't picked first for the team but were just good enough not to be last.
We are the nickels in this world filled with dollars- and at least pennies are talked about.

No one really notices us here.
We're not big enough to be remembered,
but not small enough to be important.
We fly under the radar.

But we know everything.

We know you're insecure about yourself,
And we feed off these secrets like starving mongrels.
We'll sell them to the hierarchy and swim in our payment of praise for a few more hours.

We do all the "behind the scenes jobs,"
3 way calls and slight-of-hand-texting
are our specialties.
You won't know we were there,
We linger in the background.

We have power (in our numbers).
Those above us are only there because we allow them to be,
and those below us are only there because they want to be.
We could riot, we could.
But we don't.

We don't fear,
It's more or less of a worry.
What would happen if we left?
There wouldn't even be enough people to place titles on.
Sometimes we think that's okay,
but others feast off purpose
as we our secrets.

I'd like to imagine the world would be a little sadder without me,
But that's just a lie.
It's because of us that I can't even be longed for,

Neither can you,

You see.
We're all tenacious to this thing called belonging.
We crave to live in people's memories
and strike in their hearts as hot as lightning.

We want to be felt,
We want you to want to feel us,
Because we're really just lonely third-wheels of life.
We want to have moments of acceptable silence and okay staring.
Listening to your heartbeat could be my new favorite song.
And that's just the place we live in;
Too many could-be's and want-to's.

But It's true, and I'll say it,
I want to live.
They want to be something,
Those people just want to be acknowledged in general.

And then there's us- the creators.
The could-be-destroyers.
The want-to-be-dreamers.

The almost-good-enoughs.