Sometimes I just don’t wanna be invisible.
My words are drained in the silence of my parents distractions of phones and my sister's volume.
I used to ask to be heard, but I no longer want to be if it’s a chore or a bore so I wonder if being invisible isn’t too bad if keep my hopes and dreams in a paper bag.
I wait in my chair till I hear voices flying in the air then I get up and walk away as if I was never there.
Sometimes I wonder if they notice or care, or have looked up to meet my etching green eyes of silent despair.
No, no they haven't. They never do.
My head heavy and my shoulders low, I make my way to the place where at least I feel like the silence wants me there.
It’s a place to finally to let something out, whether it's tears that stain by cheeks or silenced cries that only my pillow can hear, I let it out and then write something about it because then at least I know it’s real.
I refuse to let time envelope and burry my reality that makes me want to disappear.
Sometimes I just want to be invisible.