In the end im invisible
no one remembers my birthdays
or even name days
on a random tuesday they decide to delete me from their life
in the middle of a conversation they pick up their phones
leaving me hanging
with tears burning in my throat
in the end im eight again
insivible and one with the walls
begging for the slightest of attention
trying to memorize a fact to make head turns
trying to memorize words for the stage
murmuring lyrics to make them ask what song im singing
tying to teach myself an instrument,
make a new painting
and all for just a simple gaze, one word
just for it to end and still be me
invisible
just standing there in the middle of it all
with callouses on my fingers
paint on my shirt
and a voice in my head
"i'll never be enough".
YOU ARE READING
Griefing Twenties
PoetryA book filled with poetry by a tortured poet, till her ink bled.
