longing for attention

there are no center stages for wallflowers like me

there are no chanting encores after the bow and final scene

my eyes are ghost towns in the morning, search them if you want

i've hid behind the lie so long it's pushed me to the front

there are no open windows in the cabin of my thoughts

ideas float like tiny boats too aimless to get lost

my words are signals made of smoke, sent up in the night

shout it loud or whisper now, no one can hear your whine

there are some tired remedies for self-pity of the heart

listen close to what you hear when laying in the dark

take a breath and count to ten, don't let it overcome you

there is no field quite wide enough for a crippled will to run through.

feedback: i am eighteen and mute singer of unaskable questions