She.

Stuck in a room,
A room that doesn't seem to be mine,
A room older that I am,
A room that doesn't listen to me,
A room that doesn't adhere to my needs
Stuck in this room like a little consciousness.

She's always screaming to be out,
Hunting me day by day,
Night after night,
Sitting in the cold dark pit called my world,

A world that no one knows,
Always a background person,
Wanting to be in the spot light but never had a chance.
Whenever the chance comes, it slips out right away,
And she continues to mock me from within.

Living to please,
Living to impress.
Then she asks,
Are you happy with what you are doing?
Are you impressed by what you do?
Are you pleased with what you do?
Do they appreciate you?
No answer.

Trauma, pain,
neglect, regret, Is all she sees,
all because of me,
But continues to live ,
Hoping that painful pleasure is the narrative end.