Always the quiet one in the room
Nobody cares,
Nobody’s looking at you.
 
Staring awkwardly at the furnished floor
Never have I noticed that intricate pattern before.
 
No matter the moment, I always seem out of place
And my quick remarks begin to burden my sorrowful face.
 
No matter the day, hour, minute I live,
My bold critiques still stay aside.
Constantly telling me I won’t survive,
The everlasting storm that’s slowly killing me inside.