Willful Blindness

I am invisible
An illusion projected
to the world and
the mirror.

My physical 
will forever be 
reductive.
My emotional,
intellectual,
and spiritual 
are never percieved properly
by anyone but myself.

But-
I didn't even 
see myself 
until two transformations ago.
I question my existence
every time 
the clock ticks.

I am invisible. 
You 
who read my words
and witness my blood 
boil
and burst-
erupting out of my soul-
know me better than those 
who see my physical
or speak my name
daily.

Still,
I am invisible.
My trauma
dissolves into poetry-
raw, but condensed
because the real words-
the real me-
the unfiltered mess- 
would tick away at 
too much of my time
and leave a bitter taste behind.

My poems penetrate 
few,
but in the scheme of things
my trauma 
is another tick-mark
tally-mark 
tick-tock
statistic
to color in 
a bar graph 
on a projector.

I'm on the graph, 
I'm in the stats,
but not seen
as we tick on to the next slide.

I am invisible.
You 
see the graph
and aknowledge the numbers
and sigh
as the clock tick tocks
and another survivor suffers the same 
and may never be saved
by anyone but herself
because justice is a myth for us 
poets.

We begrudgingly adapt. 
The more I write,
or speak,
or tweet,
or tik-tok,
do I become more 
visible?

If I turn up the volume
a few ticks
will you unfollow?
Block?
Because I'm loud
and inconvinient
and a little too much
because isn't it time I move on already?
Tick-tock!

Not on your watch.
Roll your eyes;
it's always drama with me-
you'd never bring that on yourself.
It's always the negative with me-
you like to look at the bright side. 

Ignorance is sunshine sugar sweet bliss
fluttering above 
a steaming pile of sickening sewage.

Out of sight,
out of mind.
"It doesn't fit,"
"the vibes are off,"
Look at the clock!
The garbage is spreading
slowly
with every tick and tock.

Light a candle to cover up the stench
and all is well again-
thank goodness!

But the clock-

tick

tock...

Invisible is my story 
and hers
and hers
and hers
and his
and theirs
and ours
and mother earth's.

Open your eyes
to a world outside of your physical-
your illusion-
and you will see 
why I scream to be seen.

Thank you for reading! What did you think? Leave a comment below. To support my work, consider buying me a cup of coffee!

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