The Bystander

She sees, she watches

She hears, she listens
She observes her surroundings
She puts it to her memories
All of it
She remembers you, you and you,
including you
She remembers your faces
She remembers your names just from hearing them once
She knows who you are
But...
You don't know her name
You don't remember her face
You don't remember her,
because you don't know who she is
She's just a bystander
You don't know she exists

If she sees you on the streets she'll immediately recognize you
She'll be happy just from being able to spot you in the crowd.
Your familiar face makes her feel like she's not alone,
because her imagination says she's familiar to you too.

In this person's mind, there's more than you can imagine
Within those memories of hers, there's more than you know
In that heart of hers, there's more pain, complaints, dissatisfies & regrets than you can ever imagine.
She just keeps quiet about it.
She doesn't show it, she just feels it.
It's a pain, but whan can she do?
No one notices what's in the shadows.
No one cares.
She's just the quiet & uninteresting person,
the person who's by herself,
the person who's watching the play,
the bystander.