You Don't Hear

I'm living in a sound proof room
where people only pretend to hear what I say.
They stand opposite of these thick walls
and I rest enclosed within.
Read my lips.
Or don't.
what difference does it make.
Even when I take the time to write it out,
you don't take the time to hear me.
Maybe you view it,
see it,
read it.
But never do you hear a word I say.
Never will you understand me.
Never will you fully grasp the person I really am.
Outer appearances are simply costumes to disguise the being we truly are.
To cover the flaws we are ashamed of.
To defer your eye from seeing more than we are willing to share.
But even if I stood bare in front of you,
all you would see is a naked body.
You would never see me.
You could never see me.
Just like you can never hear me
because you will never take the time or force the effort to openly listen.
My costume, whatever it may be,
is quite possibly one of the best I've seen.
You dare not to suspect me to be me...
you don't take the time to develope the curiousity to even wonder who I am.
The room i live in,
did I chose this suffocation?
Or was it your archaic actions that drove me to lock my self up?
You will never know...
you will never ask.

4/9/07

so many people in my life fail to take me seriously. They read my work and joke about it. They refuse to acknowlege the situations that touch my heart and instead laugh about my language, or the simple fact that i chose to write. Then proceed to claim knowledge of my life. Not many people can understand the depth i possess. its irritating and uninspriring. i am an artist and am passionate and proud of my work and for those who opt to look and overlook it, you violently stab me where it hurts the most.