Photo is not mine. As always, comments are appreciated.
Nobody knows about my life. Why should they? What would make them care? I’m unimportant. My tale’s been told a thousand times over, So what difference would it make If mine varies in the slightest? I don’t want to be a bother, Don’t want to force you to hear the sad, Woeful tale of my life, Don’t want you to notice my pain at being ignored, Don’t want to make you hate me instead of Simply not noticing me. I won’t mind if I’m excluded. It happens every day. My story is a sad one, But one told over And over And over again. So why would you know about my life?
