Do you feel me, right where the knife is stabbing?
The blade that cuts into my skin twisting again and again.
That all I'm asking is for someone to see me, feel me and not to be ignored.
You could say I ask to much, that I'm attention seeker, but the truth is I've never been seen at least not really.
Their eyes may have looked upon my face, but with not another thought.
No one cares about what I do or the mental pain, or even about the work I do.
Everything I do is wasted, because I'm ignored or look pasted.
I'm not as noticeable as the others, nor am I as good.
But do you feel my pain of this realization right now?
That I feel like I'm getting nowhere, even though I put myself into the lions den.
I feel like I'm just the prey, but not the kind they're hunting.
Maybe I should learn to do things for me, that way it doesn't hurt me and cut right past the flesh to the bone.
This knife is the only thing that's paying attention and the pain is burning me alive,
maybe this motivation will win in the end or become blood upon the knifes blade.