You're not te only one.

Just walking down the street.
People passing by.
Hoping someone noticed me.
But I’m no real special to the eye.

For them I’m nothing more than just a whisper in wind.
A shape in the shadow.
Some are special by their beauty.
But I’m special for what’s all in my mind, all the echo’s from my head where it is so hollow.

I know I can help people, but they just won’t let me!
All the pain I suffered and the bruises it coast me.
I just wanted for people to feel happy.

But all the people who are walking by.
They don’t see I have something special in my mind.
But I don’t blame you or them, you see.
They are not the only one blind for the ones whose inside bleeds.