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Nov 2011
I
I feel like I live in a little glass box.
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Most days I don't remember
if I ever existed.
I walked into a crowded room
and I thought I said hello.
But not a single head was turned
as if my words were never heard,
they never left my mouth.
I drifted lazy 'round the room,
smoke from cedar pipe.
I passed between bodies statuesque,
really more like trees,
ne'er a word was spoke to me
ne'er a soul had noticed.
Just as quick as I'd appeared
I made my silent leave.
A leaf dropped on a placid lake
a ripple gone unnoticed.
I feel like I live in a little glass box.
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Most days I don't remember
if I ever existed.
Chris-Tyler Young
Written by
Chris-Tyler Young
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