I sit with my thoughts, they whisper, they creep,
Dark little secrets I swore I would keep.

I scare myself with the things I feel,
The weight, the doubt, are any of them real?

I smile, I laugh, I play along,
But inside, it all feels so wrong.

Is it me, or just my mind?
I’m scared to look, scared to find.

I stand beside them, close enough to hear,
But somehow, my voice disappears.
They talk, they laugh, they make their plans,
And I’m just there, empty hands.

It’s not that they hate me, I know that’s not true (at least I think so),
But somehow, I’m never thought of too.
Not the first call, not the second glance,
Just a shadow in the background’s dance..

They don’t push me out, but they don’t pull me in,
Like I exist, but just barely fit in.
I wave, I smile, I try to be seen,
But I’m fading out in the space between.

Would they notice if I walked away?
Would they ask me why I didn’t stay?
Or would my name slip from their minds,
Lost in the shuffle of passing time?

It’s not their fault, they never see,
How it feels to be almost, but never fully me.
And maybe one day, I won’t have to try,
To feel like I belong, instead of just getting by.

I often look across my skin
for a cut or bruise,
a scratch paper thin,
just for a glimpse,
of the pain within.

Everyone's scars seem laid bare,
others helping them with care,
the pain I feel
seems all but real,
cause no one reaches,
no one tries,
to see the hurt
behind my eyes.