I am the Invisible Other.
I live unnoticed, unheard,
marginally on peripheries.
I am different by color
or language or belief.
Regarded with condescending
contempt, or stinging
indifference, I am a transparent
person, a bad dream that fades in
the light of artificial reality.

Do you wonder at my anger?
Look!  See my face!
If I call your name, will you answer?
No.  I don't think so.
I know my place.
I've learned my role, and
I play it well.
I am the Insignificant Other.

I live in the patronizing shadow
of your self-interested arrogance.
It is a cold place, abandoned even
by inherent instincts to love or to care.
Deserted by decency, it is a place
where tears turn to dust and hope
dies young on the vine.
I am the Other.
I am here.

My heart is choked up all the time but I rarely cry anymore

I'm just listening for breaths or the flicking of a blade

Waking up in the middle of nowhere from the noise of nothing

My room for long minutes in the dark
on feet that unwillingly awakens you

All the heat is in my ears
All the weight is inside of me

"......they say is the greatest loss in life.  
But it's not.
The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."