Poem

My eyes, glued to the glass, watching the other kids play. Sharing smiles and laughter, how wonderful a gift that must be, but no matter how much I try to change, it’ll never be me. Their joy and glee is all I’ll ever see, no more, no less, all I’ll ever be is a witness, but maybe that itself is a gift. If I played with the other kids, it’d be pretty tiring, I’d have to make them laugh, share my things, and worst of all, they might replace me. That’d be worse than anything, so I’m fine with only watching, isn’t that right? Then why do I feel this way, why am I jealous, why am I too scared of what they might think? I hate this, I hate these thoughts, just make them go away, go to sleep, but I can’t, all I can do is let my eyes wander, nothing good comes outve it, only those horrible thoughts. Maybe if I’m patient, one day I’ll get what I want. Maybe one day someone will see something special in me, and drag me outve this boring house so we could share what they do. But I doubt they will, I’m not interesting or unique enough, just a boring bundle of traits, they’d probably get annoyed or grow to hate me, eventually they’d probably just replace me, so I don’t need anyone. No matter what I try or who I become, I’ll still be a boring person, only made for the purpose of filling up an even emptier space, I was never meant to be special at all.