The never good enough,
Pretty in private, Sexy in bed, Unnoticed in public.
Too many socialites to impress to worry about my feelings.
I’m aware of how their gaze follows me through the room.
We both knew this was how it’d go.
I’ve long accepted the role of a shadow;
Afterthought is my middle name.
I’ll leave with a high head and a broken spirit.
I’m never good enough to fight for, Just decent enough to hold.
Walking extra slow in the streets,
Extra quiet in efforts not to frighten anyone;
I hide my ethnic features whenever possible in order to not offend;
And try to make myself feel worthy by flirting and begging every man I can find
To acknowledge my presence for just a moment.
But moments fade.
And I’m ignored once again,
Forced to remember
All people ever see is pigment.
I stopped crying tears for myself long ago….it doesn’t help me any. No one pities the one who never mattered to begin with.