There was a certain pain to it,
Pure anonymity.
There was a certain sting from it,
Knowing no one knew you.
There was something bitter,
About not seeing your face in the yearbook.
There was something sour,
From knowing no one would ever do something sweet for you.
There was a strain,
In forcing yourself to smile but knowing no one was looking anyway.
There was an itch,
A desperation to break out from the chains no one else could see.
There was a sense of hurting,
From no one learning your name.
There was a sense of insecurity,
In knowing you were only secure in oblivion.

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