I keep myself busy
So I forget who I am
Because I don't need to be reminded
That I'm alone
Being by myself
Is less tiresome
Then being with the crowd
And standing there
Standing.
Watching..
Waiting...
Wishing....
And wanting to cry
Because you can't
Talk
To any of them no matter what you think
Even at home you are the same
Because no one
watches, talks, waits, looks
At you
Are we just more independent?
Or we just good at faking
The loneliness we feel
Onto fake smiles and well wishes?
But know what?
It only matters when it gets to you
And you, out of everyone,
Believe it to be true.
Can I listen to you?
