I live with the cloak of invisibility
It comforts me like the blanket of a newborn sleeping sound and peacefully
And as you read these words that you really don't see
I'm aware that what is your imagination is my reality
I come from a long list of those that are seen but not heard
Blending in with the herd our mass comes from the sum of one half of one third
No one speaks for those represented by mere sight with no words
So I suffer silently, knowing that nothing more than your imagination is my reality
I'm a product of everything that's wrong with humanity
So much focus on what I'm not or could of been; rather than relishing in the potential of what I can be
I wait for acceptance, a defining moment where I am accepted by the many
The day when I no longer live the life as an army of one
But my reality is that I'm nothing more than a figment of your imagination
And to you my life is nothing more than a simple display of artistic interpretation
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