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What about the girl who was never discovered. She, so prettily, wore her ballerina leotard pink satin with lace tool. Waiting alone eagerly smiling at everyone passing by. Looking for that acceptance, for that force, that knows more than her, to tap her shoulder, whisper in her ear "Come and join the elite." What about the father that was never discovered. He worked hard all his life and sits in the waiting room wearing his best suit and tie that he could afford. Alhough he knows it is out of style and obviously made of bad material. He is still waiting for that promotion to come and place a life for his family and himself in his hand. What about the mother that waits to be discovered. she worked hard for years and just would like to here a thank you from that force. she waits for one person that hears the cries that for years were captured by her pillow. she's awaiting that knower of secrets to hand her the life of leisure she deserves. What about the poet that holds in contempt, the best of people, for being the same as he. Still sitting here, waiting to be discovered without any secrets. Looking through each porch glass in disgust at the balmy green layer that the willow trees have been pissi

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