Speak, though the world may not yet hear,
Your voice a melody, unique, clear.
In the symphony of life, each note dear,
The universe listens, always near.

Hello, can you see me?

Am I real to you?

I've been waving hands aggressively

in front of people’s faces,

but I don't think that they can

see me.



Please, can you hear me?

I've nearly lost my voice

from all the shouting,

screaming at them,

but I don't think that they can

hear me.



Can you feel me,

as I try to hold your hand?

I've been trying to reach out,

hold you, talk and listen.

But I don't know if I am

real to you.

I am like the wind that goes unseen.
I am the shadow, untouchable, fleeting.
I am the darkness whose light eludes your sight.

Who am I?

I walk beside you, invisible yet near.
I live and breathe among you,
Yet you cannot feel me.

I am like the fading wind,
Whispering through the silence,
Longing to be felt.

I hadn't realized, not in weeks or years,  
My reflection silent, hiding all my fears.  
The hurtful ones, the liars, the deceit,  
The ones who punished others just for breathing, just for being free.  

They were the ones who laughed and danced,  
While I sat still, trapped in a waiting trance.  
I hid in shadows, unseen, unknown,  
A ghost among the living, always alone.  

They played with life, free of guilt,  
While I wore the weight, the silence built.  
I was the punching bag, the teddy thrown aside,  
The one they never needed, the one they couldn’t hide.  

The loser they defined me as,  
But I was more than what they saw in glass.  
A heart still waiting, still unseen,  
In the spaces in between.

I want to erase the fingerprints
I leave on your days, weeks, and years,
To drain through the gaps
In your floorboards,
To float through life,
Unable to embrace but
Too incorporeal to be slapped.

I need to

go.

As a little girl
I was thrown into a science lab for an experiment
As I sat in the corner of the dusty, white walls
Thinking about what my childhood could've been without this detriment
And I was too scared to move
The only words that could come out of my mouth was a lament

And each week the scientists would open the door
And carry me to a new place
And then they'd run tests on me
Sticking needles into my arm and face
Then I'd be returned to the dusty, white walls once more
Being put down on the ground with the coldest embrace

And one day after a failed experiment
I was put back in the room, poorly patched
And my vision blurred, my eyes ringed
And my body slowly crawled to the door and latched
And my dying body pushed it slightly, and it opened
And with my final breath, I realized there was never a lock attached.