in a small room, there are many souls
each one has a story unique to them
yet they don't speak of it
they do not see it
the stillness around them
as they occupy a room without a word
they don't question the quietness
almost embracing it
how can I blame them though
what purpose does it serve to tell your story
when its easier to stare at a phone
and bask in the thoughts you have
blissfully ignoring souls around you

I walk steadily one step at a time
yet my destination seems so far away
over and over I tell myself that my goal is walking alongside me
still, I look ahead trying to reach a goal that I can't reach
maybe I would chastise myself if the goal was unreasonable
somewhere inside me though it does not feel like such
no, it feels more like the starting line was too far back
but I'm too stubborn to accept it to lay down and allow it to stop me
so I walk steadily one step at a time

I often wonder the angle others see me
As they look at me from across the room
or stand next to me, making eye contact
do they take my gestures the way I mean them
is my true image reflected within them
I wonder if its me that they see
or if its the me who truly represents me
I hope that image is the same as mine
otherwise who would I be
from angles that I cant see

I sit at the beginnings of a new future
Yet to reach it I must openly defy my greatest fears
My body is torn, so I write
but to no one but myself
As I put off what I must confront
what I know is simple
I might be a single unit, but my dreams matter
so don't be scared, allow yourself to reach
speak your thoughts and the world will listen
or at least that's what I hope is true
It sounds ideal to me
since the world is lonely when you are the only voice you hear

My eyes are open so I see the shapes of the world around me
I can make out its colors and can hear the voices that laugh and cry
However, I don't know if others can see it reflected within my eyes
but I can feel it
the lack of empathy for their words
my apatheticness towards the vibrancy around me
the cold distant observation in the shapes that pass me by