What they don’t know
Is how good it feels
When somebody talks to you
Engaging in a conversation
And being acknowledged.

They make me so happy.

What they don’t know
Is how rare those moments are
And how much I cherish them
When I feel like
I’m not completely forgotten…

Whatever I do is useless anyway.

What they don’t know
Is how hurt I am
When I try to speak
But they don’t listen
And I shouldn’t have even spoken at all.

Why did I do that?

What they don’t know
Is that when I’m near them
And hear them talk and chatter
I feel more lonely
Than when I am alone

I could only wish I could talk
And they would listen
And I would laugh along with them
And fill that empty void in my chest
And feeling actually decent.

I only wish that they would know.