A piece of furniture,
In the corner of the room.
They walk past me every day,
Like I’m invisible too.
I scream inside my head,
But it never makes a sound.
I’m here, I’m breathing,
But I’m nowhere to be found.
Apr 25
Apr 25, 2026 at 4:35 PM UTC
A piece of furniture,
In the corner of the room.
They walk past me every day,
Like I’m invisible too.
I scream inside my head,
But it never makes a sound.
I’m here, I’m breathing,
But I’m nowhere to be found.
A poem I wrote for the people who don't feel seen. I wrote this poem for a writing project I'm working on.