They look through me,
As if I’m air.
Like they can’t see,
It isn’t fair.
Their ears can’t hear,
My lonely voice.
No matter how clear,
Losing my last choice.
Their hands cannot feel,
The touch of my skin.
To them I’m not real,
My patience grows thin.
Deaf to my call,
To them I’m air.
Not there at all,
Just wind in their hair.
Cory Calder
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/invisible-56/
