I walk among shadows, unnoticed, unseen,
A voice in the static, lost in between.
A spark in the silence, I flicker and fade,
While echoes of giants in black light parade.
I’ve worn the robe of patience too long,
Whispered my truth of being alone.
Silence is heavy—it buries the brave,
And hope grows weary the longer it grieved.
I am not asking for glory or fame,
Not to have cities built in my name.
But a glance, a gaze, a moment to say
“I see you. You're more than the gray.”
I’ve planted my dreams in the soil of despair,
Watered with sweat, pruned with care.
Now they bloom in the dark, aching for sun,
Yearning for change that has yet to come.
Give me your eyes; not to worship or prize,
But to witness the fire I hold in disguise.
To know that my struggle, my scars, my rise,
Are not just forgotten beneath bigger skies.
So here I stand, not bowed but bold,
In a world too blind, too proud, too cold.
Begging for eyes; not pity, nor praise
Just a chance to ignite these slumbering days.
Whatever we do here on Earth may never fully satisfy us. Lasting fulfillment doesn't always come from recognition or applause. What matters most is nurturing your passion—whether or not anyone is watching. Let it grow quietly, patiently, and authentically. Your journey is valuable even in silence.