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Only The Stage Lights
I stepped up on your stage
 And you told me to speak.
 You asked me
 "Why are you so quiet?"
 I said, "I don't know."
 I said, "I just am."
 You examined me with wondering eyes
 Like you were some 
 Award-winning psychologist
 Like you could diagnose me
 Like you could just 
 Write the word "life" on a scrap of paper
 And direct me to the nearest pharmacy
 To pick up my prescription.
 If only it was that simple.
 If only we could just choose to live
 Choose to be alright
 Choose to speak.
 And I guess I've tried.
 Maybe I've even made
 Some progress.
 But the stage lights beating down upon me
 And your intrusive eyes stabbing into me
 Make it all go away
 And it is all for nothing.
 You said, "You should talk more."
 And I nodded.
 I nodded even though I knew you wouldn't listen if I did.
 You never do.
 I nodded even though I've been talking all these years.
 I've been speaking all along.
 Didn't you know?
 Didn't you hear? 
 Weren't you listening?
 I spoke so much my voice became hoarse. 
 I spoke so much I cried.
 I spoke so much that I...that I thought...you had to have heard me.
 Heard me at some point.
 But I guess not.
 Now only the stage lights hear me. 
 Only the pages of my books hear me.
 Only those who care to listen hear me.
 You often said to me, "Please grace me with your words."
 You said it as though I was
 Cursing you with silence.
 And I remember
 I would always nod
 A small voice would say, "Okay."
 And I guess it was mine.
 I guess it was one of the few things you ever heard me say.
 I'm sorry if I cursed you.
 I'm sorry to disappoint.
 I'm sorry my voice doesn't reach
 To the very back of the theatre
 The way everyone else's does.
 I want you to know that I really tried.
 I tried for you and for all the others who told me,
 "You know, you really should talk more often."
 If only you knew how hard I tried.
 I rehearsed lines like, "I'm fine, thank you."
 Lines like "Nice weather, isn't it?"
 And knowing you, you would have considered this progress.
 You would have patted me on the back
 Congratulated me for speaking up
 Told me it was a good start.
 And I'm starting to think it was less about me
 And more about you.
 You needed to do your good deed for the day
 And what better way
 Than to make the shy girl talk.
 May I be the first to congratulate you? 
 Yes, you deserve a medal.
 I could present it to you
 With my sparkling confidence
 And booming voice.
 If only it was that easy.
 And now I'm left wondering...
 Could I be you?
 Could we trade spots?
 You could crawl a mile on my knees
 And I could stand on the stage
 All day.
 Bask in the glory
 Of being heard 
 All the way to the back of the theatre
 And when you come back
 Maybe you'd understand.
 Maybe you'd even hear.
 And maybe,
 Just maybe
 I could speak a little louder.
 Maybe the first two rows would hear me
 If they leaned in a little closer.
 Wouldn't that be wonderful? 
 Wouldn't that be progress?
 Wouldn't that make you so proud?
 I could be your success story.
 Your conversation piece.
 But it's not that simple, is it?
 It's not even that simple.
 You and I both know that.
 So I'm sorry my voice doesn't reach
 To the very back of the theatre
 The way everyone else's does.
 It's still a little hoarse
 After all these years
 Still a little hoarse.

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