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Anais Vionet Jun 4
you can’t smile, they won’t take you seriously
In the depths of silence, where shadows reside,
A heavy heart, burdened, cannot hide.
Unseen, unnoticed, like a ghostly wraith,
I wander through existence, lost in a desolate faith.

In a crowded room, I fade to gray,
Whispers and laughter, they all drift away.
An outsider peering through misty eyes,
Yearning for connection, but met with empty skies.

Words unspoken, like echoes unheard,
Emotions trapped, stifled, never stirred.
My voice, a mere whisper in the wind,
Aching to be heard, to matter, to rescind.

The world moves on, an unforgiving tide,
Leaving me stranded, unwanted, denied.
Invisible threads bind me, a lonely refrain,
Longing for affection, like a wilted flower in the rain.

I seek solace in dreams, a sanctuary of the mind,
Where I am cherished, accepted, intertwined.
But awakening brings me back to the bitter truth,
That I am but a shadow, lost in the uncaring sleuth.

Yet amidst the darkness, a flicker remains,
A glimmer of hope, a spark that sustains.
For within this void, a strength starts to ignite,
Embracing my worth, pushing through the night.

Though I may feel ignored, unwanted, unseen,
I'll rise above the shadows, where dreams intervene.
For in this vast universe, I'll find my own way,
To shine brightly, even if skies remain gray.
she asked for
a birthday calendar
simplistic in design
quite endearing
to collate
each and every
important date
mark them down
in her neatest
clearest handwriting
she thought that
if she hung it
in pride of place
on the wall
by the kitchen door
her eye would
be drawn to it
each time
she left the room
she would not
forget to send
the appropriate message
of congratulations
and many happy returns
when needed
     or expected;
the calendar may
be showing
the correct month
it has remained
on that page
     ignored or
for the past
eleven months
I see you
you see others

I am an address
not on your list

I, silent
you, short on attention

I, understated elegance
you seek the crumpled and crumbled

I, content
you, bored

I, ever present
but for you always a blind spot
This poem is from my book of poems - Vendor of Poems available on Amazon and Kindle
Thomas Steyer Feb 2022
Blue ****, sparrows and some rather pretty birds indeed
Gathering around their special wooden box of feed
Respectfully waiting for their turns to pick a seed
Then they fly away and I'm thrilled about my good deed

For I'm the supplier - in their eyes the Mighty Lord
I know a few things but mainly where the food is stored
Feeling a little superior is my reward
Though most times they believe I deserve to be ignored
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