Ghost

Sometimes you just feel invisible to the one who's supposed to care the most

Do you even really care?

Do you see me standing there?
Am I just unaware?

Is it because you hate the clothes I wear?
Why do you detest me so?

Is it that I don’t know which way to go?
Or which road to follow?

Is there are path I should know?
What am I missing here?
Why is the dissonance so clear?

Must I live my days in fear?

Or should I let go and let you steer?

Do you see right through?

Why must you always stare?

Am I but a ghost to you?

Do you even really care?

 

 

You hate my music,

And all the games that I play,

You say I make you sick,

With all the things I say.

I can’t understand why,

Or how you can feel nothing,

When you never cared to try,

To let the caged bird sing,

To fly free,

Among it’s flock,

And to let that bird see

The hands on the clock.

To know that fate has drawn near,

As the hour moves close,

The plan becomes clear,

As does the path the bird chose,

At the fork he went left.

You watched him fade,

You were bereft,

With joy, your plans were laid.

You always thought,

Or perhaps you knew,

That one day you ought,

To find yourself too.