People fill your house
And yet silence echoes through
Notes fly out their mouths
Yet can never seem to reach you
They reach out to you
Hands falling through
Their visions of you are different; lies
Therefore they can never touch the real you
A figment in their imagination
Blocks them from the truth
The tears you cry will always
Mask the truth of you
A watcher from the shadows
Staring at the screen of your life
A ghost watching from ahead
And you're screaming: 'I'm not dead! '
Reach for someone to hold you
Too invisible; overlooked
Warmth in your hand
You have finally been touched
No longer invisible, only in love
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem