I have a beauty
That only few has recognition
I am that small box lying on the floor
No one would ask my worth
And it is not worth knowing for
In that big production
I am a box
Steady and almost forgotten by people
A used paper thrown in a cripple
I would sing to the beat
But no one would stand or take a seat
Among a chorale of seventy
It is not that plenty
But my voice almost blend with unity
Not only one
But many have heard
But only few could pinpoint
The sound that I anoint.
I am a chamelion in human form
It was not sadness nor fornlorn
I am that songwriter you are unfamiliar with
You would not thank me or have a picture with
The backstage artist who beautifies your face
I am a wallflower
That you would turn your eyes away to
Because you cannot recognize my simplicity
Like an alien
You cannot handle my entity.
You are this
You are that
You failed to recognize my beauty
Further you go
Maybe you are too slow
Without digging any deeper
You fail to realize I am the real keeper.