An Observation made within Sam Spratt's "IX. The Monument Game" - My life has always been a supporting role.
Whether it's there or not,
A presence that's fine either way
Who am I really...
I felt like no one really knew me.
so
I learned not to get hurt first.
The expectation of being accepted,
always brought me disappointment,
and I emptied myself to not be hurt.
Even when no one is watching,
To not be ashamed of myself,
I did my best.
So one day, like the name carved into this tree.
Is there anyone who will acknowledge me?
Rodeyo
