The smallest slaves you will ever meet
Are out there working on the street
They fight day and night to be brave
And yet thier lives, we don't save.

They work until they're weak and weary
Until their eyes are red and teary
They collapse into a desperate slumber
The working days pass without number

Beat until bruised and sobbing
Jobs of work and jobs of robbing
Children working everywhere
Please, please hear my prayer

I think of you everyday
I try to help in every way
But some of the world doesn't realize
The pain and suffering in your eyes

So listen up, people, can't you see
Children the same age as me?
Working in factories and on the streets
The smallest slaves you will ever meet.

Nobody really thinks
Of me.

They take me for granted
They don't see

When I'm trying to say something
But there's no sound

When I want to follow
But I'm stuck to the ground

When they I fade into the background
Like an extra on a set.

When people smile at me
Like I'm some loser they've never met.

It seems like nobody knows my name,
My friends, my family, it's all just the same.

I get a little bold, then
Bam! Smashed down.

Driven back by an insult
Or a frown.

I try to smile,
I try to laugh

But in truth
They only see half

Of the person I'm hiding inside
To hide her I have always tried.

She is small and easily scared
She is quiet and has no teeth bared.

She rubs her hands,
She has nothing to say

She wants to follow,
But she must stay.

She is ordered
And bossed around
Her real side
Is tossed around

On a sea of different feelings
Of broken promises and dealings

A little boldness here and there
But she has always had a flair

Of feeling very out of place
Her curtain of hair hides her face.

This side of me I hide everyday
The side of me, unlike me in anyway.

It's haunting me again,
this painfulness of lonliness,
it's this cloud that surrounds,
that just sinks me into sadness.

I have lot's of good friends at school,
But lot's of them don't wait,
to go to classes, or to talk,
I'm sure it's not a mistake.

For the first time I cannot express my feelings,
For the first time you won't understand,
"I do wait for you!" you'll say,
and this'll make me sad. 

At break I'm alone outside,
at lunch the table's silent,
only afterschool I feel better,
but I still feel isolated.

"Why am I invisible?" I ask,
"You're not" they will respond,
but deep deep deep inside my heart,
I don't even exist.

That's why this random cloud,
this random cloud of darkness,
is swishing here, and there,
surrounding me wherever I go.

It sinks me into this mess,
of problems that don't exist,
that I invent,
And I eventually feel depressed.

Why am I writing this?
Why am I writing random words?
But again, I still have this random invisible cloud,
following me wherever I go.

Do you think
I don't notice
When you laugh at me?

Do you think
I feel fine
When I feel awful?

Do you think
I can take
Anymore of this?

The anwser is no.
So listen up.
Listen to me.
Think about it.

Sometimes I look at the world,
And think,
Wow.

What have we done
To this beautiful sphere
Of life and vibrancy?

We have reduced to a burning wreck
Where war rages
And crimes are commited
And nature is destroyed.

You say, that's harsh.
Do you know what's harsh?
A football field of trees gone
Every second.
Every minute.
Every DAY.

People crying when they know
Someone they love
Will never come home.

People who steal and snatch,
Most of them have to because, otherwise
They'll starve.

That's harsh.