they do not see me at all …


1.


They do not see me at all,

as I walk through these desecrated avenues,

of soul-deadening frenzy.


I see them rushing past me,

and no matter how hard I holler and call,

they do not see me at all.


It seems at times, that invisible am I,

for when I reach out, and shriek,

when on my knees I crawl,

they rush past me,

for they do not see me at all.


I have tried to raise their ire,

I have taunted and goaded them,

till exhausted and fatigued,

to the cold damp ground I fall,

still they rush past me,

for they do not see me at all.


I stand mutely,

waving my hands all around while scribbling verses in my unintelligible scrawl,

still they rush past me,

for they do not see me at all.


They rush past me, knocking me over without ever looking back,

trampling over my fallen form,

they look past my limp crumpled shadow,

as they whine on in their monotonous drawl,

and they still do not see me at all.


2.


When they look my way,

flickers of recognition crossing their faces,

I crawl back into my nothingness,

cocooned as the day begins to pall,

hoping, tired and broken,

to be back in the space,

where they cannot see me at all …