Originally from "Poetry 2.0."
Alone. Spinning, hearing ghosts laugh, before realizing I've heard wrong. I am the ghost. The laughter around me is alive. Invisibility: it's the one ability I'd turn down, if it was offered. I don't want to be invisible... but it seems I don't have much of a choice now. I spin again, looking for someone, anyone. They don't see me. I'm invisible. Is it a blessing, or a curse? I'm unsure. I do know that I never wanted this. Unexpectedly, I sit down. No one seems to care. At least I can stop looking. At least they've stopped telling me to look.
YOU ARE READING
i wouldn't call it poetry
Poesíabasically, this is like less than half of my poetry journal. umm... here you go UPDATE: 12/20/17 I've been going through the long process of cleaning up my account so it'll be presentable for the now multiple people at school who want to read my emb...
