Lost
The room is so
very full.
Full of possibility
And personality
But I stand at
the front and I
can feel the
eyes on me, small.
I feel small.
My words are
empty.
Not like theirs.
Jealousy is
never...
never mind.
I’d love to pry
open those minds
and read them
like files.
Maybe they can hear
my teeth chattering.
Maybe they are
lost.
A little like me.
Maybe?
