Nobody ever stops to listen to me. As long as I’ve been alive I’ve said so many words but never been heard. No one ever wants to hear those below them. I sleep in the city lights and watch the people hurry back and forth, rushing from appointment to appointment, never stopping to think, never stopping to dream, never stopping to listen. I’ve seem proposals, I’ve seen first dates, I’ve seen what people refer to as fate, when they bump into each other on the street and find their true love. I’ve seen death, I’ve seen suicide, and I’ve seen murder. I’ve seen drunken confessions, and silent lies. I’ve discovered the meaning of life and light and I know why the seasons come and go. I know why the earth is round and exactly how infinite space is. I’ve never asked for much. Just a home, some food, and someone to talk to. Those around me have always been so selfish. But I guess that makes sense. Nobody ever thinks to stop and talk to a pest. No one could ever listen to a roach.
