Tag: #fragments
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Unseen, I whisper, a ghost in the sunlit room,
words like smoke, curling, lost in the hum.
They laugh, they talk, a vibrant, woven sound,
while my own voice, a seed, falls on barren ground.
Eyes glaze, a polite, distracted stare,
a phantom touch, a breath of empty air.
I paint my soul in ink, in raw, exposed lines,
a canvas bleeding truth, where no one aligns.
They know my name, my face, the shape of my days,
but the heart beneath, a maze of hidden ways,
remains uncharted, a silent, shadowed land,
where feelings bloom, and whither, unplanned.
I offer stories, fragments of my core,
a trembling hand that reaches for the door,
but the door stays shut, a barrier of glass,
a silent judgement, moments that won’t pass.
Do they not see the tremor in my hand?
The silent scream, unheard, misunderstood, unplanned?
The ache to be known, the longing to be seen,
a fragile echo, lost in the in-between.
I write, I bleed, I pour myself onto the page,
a desperate plea, a prisoner in a cage.
And hope, a fragile bird, takes flight and then,
returns, wings clipped, unseen, again.
By Elizabeth Proett