Blue shoes tap against the floor from heavy steps,
A boy of no importance walks into the crowded room,
White smiles and infectious laughter fill the air,
And suddenly he thinks, "This is no room for you."

He takes steps back, farther and farther, from the place,
Escaping an atmosphere of seemingly genuine enjoyment,
Not accepting that there is something out, there besides him,
That isn't planned around existing for his torment

Sticky notes of optimism come from a wavering voice,
One he'd rather ignore most days because it's exhausting
Being a pillar of hope to hold himself up isn't enough,
Lost in thought, "I need some real friends."

He reaches a gloved hand out to people with little to no intention,
Talking into a disconnected payphone on an empty, unlit street,
There's a not so strange stranger watching from across the black tar,
Wondering sadly, "When will he finally notice me?"