There's a wall of glass between us,
you can't see me
or hear me screaming
fighting for just one moment of your attention.
Most of my life,
those who were important to me
never knew I was a person -
I was just an object to be used then ignored.
I'm tired of being lonely.
What's the point of beating
on the glass when
all I'm doing is getting my hands bloody?
You never saw me anyway.
You only acknowledged my existence
when you needed something.
My shame is that I allowed it to happen.