Unheard is a whisper in the wind,
faintly talking in your ear.
He's the figure hidden in plain sight,
Forgotten...
He knows everything that goes on,
because he is unheard he is not seen...
His dark blue eyes, watch all, waiting, to finally be noticed...
Unheards dream is to be heard,
for his silent pleas for help to be met.
He spends his time at home listening to his music, full blast
to block out the constant fighting...
He finds peace at the roofs edge of tall buildings, inching
further each day...
Unheard hides behind a curtain of black hair, like the roses he carries
in his pocket as he climbs the stairs to the top,
leaving white roses as a trail behind him...
He steps that final inch...
Unheard fades to the darkness as the commotion rises...
He is finally heard,
But it's too late, his stories over now...
