They knock on the door, but they never walk in,
They ask for applause before you begin.
A crowded room filled with voices so loud,
Where everyone speaks to an empty crowd.
You drop a drop into their deep sea,
Hoping a wave might come back to me.
But the shore stays dry, and the water is still,
As they drink from your cup but refuse to fill.
A mirror reflects what you place in its view,
You cannot expect what you don’t offer too.
The page is a bridge where two souls must meet,
Not a pedestal built for a selfish deceit.
To the few who stay back to listen and stay,
You are the light at the end of the day.
But to those who just wave their hands to be seen:
A stage with no audience is just a blank screen.