Ordinary

I'm just ordinary.
Nothing spectacular,
I don't stand out in a crowd,
nothing about me
would get your attention.
I'm just as plain as your
next-door-neighbor.
But I'm a person.
I feel, I think, I speak, I breathe.
I live, I know.
I am a good person, and
although you wouldn't
look at me twice, I'm here.
Watching.
Waiting.
Deserving.
I'm just the girl next to you
on a bus, in line for coffee,
eating food.
My heart aches from your apathy.
I'm here, I exist,
but because I am nothing
extraordinary, I don't even
register on your radar.
I am invisible.
Nothing to write home about.
I'm just ordinary.
I'm just me.