Words Of a Feather

Can you see me? Can you hear me?

Can you listen to me?

I’m often surrounded by plenty of people but on the other hand, I’m as visited as the Titanic

People love me as if I’m Henry VIII

Not bad, right?

They love me so much that they know so much about me, like…

And these large, lively loved ones lovingly lock my lips

So as to protect me from straining my voice

They never complain when I playfully punch them, my punches are flying pillows

My life is like a tricycle; the third wheel

Up until the 8th grade, friend group after friend group I’ve been a stranger to them

Or rather a stalker that knows everything about them

An unknown one who remains hidden in the scales of a mermaid

Is it because I’m too quiet?

If so, then why is it that when my words are louder, you enjoy how I’m as loud as a meaningless mime mining for mesmerizing  monkey-eating monsters

The silence

The solitude

If I slap you, pull your hair, steal your keys, does nothing happen?

Even when I’m really trying because all I want is to have a nice time with you

All I want is to share what I have to say

To jokingly kick my feet with you rather than my feet befriend the grass while yours are crushing the pavement

But no matter how much I scream,

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH

To you, I’m a loud whisper

A modern dinosaur

A gun silencer

As I’m writing and working and swimming and running and talking, all of a sudden, you all close your eyes

Eyes that are apparently too valuable to gaze at nothingness

But when you don’t look, I listen

And all that’s left every time your eyes aren’t on me, on what I do, it’s like cutting my hair

Or shaving my hair

Accidentally cutting brown bits smooth as pearls, all because I want my actions to be more than the tears of an actress

What can I do to make you notice me?

To make my actions and thoughts matter?

Because when I do everything, I do nothing

Do you not care what I have to say?

Because even when I grow louder and surround myself with people who listen

My voice still goes ignored

It’s as if I’m chasing them with a blade

A blade made of air that I stab people with every day

And as the shadows laugh as they shine brighter than I do

And the wind pushes me away

That blade’s air morphs into something else and suddenly, I’m chasing myself with it

My skin turning from brown to red

Luckily, no one notices

If that’s so, then I fucking hate you all and I hope you die a slow, painful death and your bodies are never found and once they are found you get thrown away like the pieces of shit you are and-

Nevermind. I just wasted my breath and no one’s time for no reason

If that’s the case, then why am I still here?

Or there?

Or nowhere?

WHAT IF I’M GONE?!

Will the gunshot be loud enough for you to hear me?!

Will the blood be enough for you to see me?!

I thought to myself, maybe then, people will talk about me

But no, because then, my corpse will fade away. Like always

Or rather, do nothing