She was known by many, but only existed to some.
In her world she was invisible.
She was seen but suddenly forgotten.
Many nights she dragged her heart across the crowded streets of New York City, watching strangers stomp on what was valuable to her.
No one ever noticed, or was kind enough to pick it up off up the ground for her.
She would sometimes yell into the street and turn to the person walking beside her
“Can you help me piece back my heart together, please?”
She would beg and plead as she yelled this line over and over again
but there were no reactions, no answers from anyone.
In her mind she was no one, how could you be somebody to someone if you have already convinced yourself that you’re no one?