Perhaps it is because deep inside we are all attention-seeking poor souls who deperately feed on the attention we get, as if it was the only food we need to depend on to survive.
That is the word I would use.
The feeling that the spotlight was no longer on me, the jealousy that slowly seeps into my tar black soul… the strands that blind me with green.
I feel forgotten, as if I was nothing more than a toy that has been put aside by a little boy, just left in the corner.
To rust.

I yearn to call out and to yell into a microphone the words I Am Here!
Yet I remain silent and smile as sweetly as I can manage, to put up a good show, as someone steps up and takes my place on the stage…


The fake smile

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