I am invisible.
The world walks by me without seeing,
While I am forced to watch it turn without me.
Even those who normally laugh with me,
Have forgotten me,
Even those who normally smile with me,
Have forgotten me.
I was once this way, before,
But then I found my voice,
And with it, I found my friends.
But every time,
I have a nagging feeling,
Like no matter what I do,
No matter how loudly I fight to be heard, to be noticed,
If I am silent, the world will forget me.
I try to speak up, on my invisible days,
But no matter what, I say it wrong.
And in doing so, become more unseen.
The reason why I fight so hard to be heard,
Is because I fear going unheard.
For then I am alone,
For then I have no purpose,
For then am I Invisible.
There are some who might call me weird,
But really, who decides Weird and Normal?
Is there some golden judge in the sky,
Dragging beliefs, interests, appearances into two separate piles?
Is there a secret code,
Telling me to believe this and that,
For fear of being unusual?
No, weird is someone else's opinion.
And one of the great things about being human,
Is that we can form our own opinions.
So that means,
If I think that something is interesting,
But it isn't to you,
You don't get to tell me "That's weird."
Sure, you can think that, and I won't blame you,
But vocalizing that is unnecessary.
If anything, standing up and supporting myself,
makes me the bigger person,
Even as you fight to make me smaller.
There are moments,
Some quiet, peaceful,
Others bright and vibrant,
I wish I could capture forevermore in my head,
Or print out to look at for eternity.
Simple things, like the delicate petals of a lily in the grey dawn light,
Or more complex, like my family's faces smiling back at me.
I love to look up through the trees at noon,
Just as the sun streams though the leaves perfectly,
The best pictures, I do have,
Dear to me,
The sun over the ocean,
Ideas, reminders, and the like.
I love being alive, celebrating the little moments,
And I love my pen, for letting my thoughts flow across the page,
For letting me express myself,
For helping me save the little moments.
Time is stopped
As the sun rises through the ashes of night,
And Pale oranges and pinks slowly spread,
through the wings of the clouds.
The celestial beauty of the dawn,
Shines down on everywhere, everyone,
On rich and poor, young and old,
On Muslims, Atheists, Christians, Jews,
It shines on Texas, in the hot muggy summers,
It shines on Alaska, with its crystal frozen waterfalls,
It gazed upon the proud Romans,
Upon their infallible empire.
It shed a tear for the Titanic,
Those poor lost souls captured by the cold seawater.
It has been here billions and billions of years,
And will stay for billions more.
Every day that has passed
Has been born with its rise
And laid to rest as it sets
On all the Jubilant days, Tragic days, and the in-between days.
It gives life, and sustains it,
Its beauty is incomparable.