Ghost
You look right through me,
I am nothing. Just an object in your way.
Here I sit alone, looking, silently willing you to see.
Not worth the time of day.
I am a wanderer to escape the chains of my invisibility.
If I keep moving, there's a reason no one's there.
I am in control, take the fault on as my own.
Better this than listening to people pretend to care.
Here, a new place, a new face, a stranger unknown.
Diamond in the rough.
No one seeing the shine through the chipped and damaged seal.
Stay and try just a little longer, until I've had enough.
Questioning my value, am I even real?
About the Creator
Dee Meinville
"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."- Mr. Knightley, Austen's Emma
Struggling med student, tortured soul (what poetess isn't), devoutly Catholic. I write to express what goes unsaid and to stand for the voiceless.
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