The bar hums, a disharmonious machine.
Words overlap like clumsy, drunken dancers.
No one hears, just mouths moving, always.
Eyes fixed on bottles, hands twitch, gripping.
I sit in the corner, silent, unseen.
The jukebox spits out broken tunes, endless.
They talk at each other, never with anyone.
Each sentence ricochets, halted mid-air, lonely.
They brag, lie, curse, but who is there?
They'd vanish if mirrors reflected their truths.
The ashtray spills its guts onto the table.
Cigarettes burn short lives, quicker than confessions.
A howl in my throat dies unspoken, locked.
They wouldn’t hear me through self-built prisons.
All I want is to disappear through cracks.
Unheard and unseen, like I never existed.
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Author:
gray0328 (
Offline) - Published: October 11th, 2025 10:23
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 16
Offline)
Comments3
a fine write much enjoyed
Thanks Norman I appreciate your feedback
most welcome
Talk about feeling not a part of a group. Here people already have their minds made up and convinced to the point of not hearing or seeing what they don't want to believe. Nicely worded there is a deep feeling of alienation in this poem
Thanks Soren I appreciate your feedback
Most welcome Gray
That has a sense of isolation from a group who are not prepared to engage with anyone who do not have or follow their beliefs, there minds are closed. Enjoyed the read
Thanks for sharing your feedback I appreciate it
You are very welcome
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