In the silence of morning when the world still sleeps,
I carry the weight of words no one keeps.
My thoughts are a river, they stream without tide.
Feeling silenced and misunderstood, no matter how I tried.
In crowded rooms, my voice becomes but a ghost,
Lost in the clamor, never truly engrossed.
I reach out with silence, with gestures and sighs, my eyes darting and pleading up to the skies.
Yet my true essence seems to vanish from their eyes.
The mirror reflects a face that they never seem to see,
Me, a tapestry of emotions they can’t quite believe.
I paint my heart on canvas, in differing hues of sorrow and grace,
But the colors blend into shadows, lost in their chase.
Each attempt to explain feels like a fragile plea,
Drowned in the noise of their own certainty.
Yet, I persist, ever so small,
Still seeking understanding, through the silence of it all.
I wander through days with a burdened soul,
Wishing for my empathy to make me whole.
In the endless quest for connection, where truth is obscure,
I remain, a misread story, longing to be understood and somehow remain pure.