by smugwriter

as i sit here surrounded by the people i call my friends i question whether they see me or not. whether if i stood up and walked away they would realise that my patch of grass is empty or not.

as they cackle at shallow gossip and reminisce over moments that don’t include my presence, i continue to drift from them; every moment saddening my ever-breaking heart.

im questioning their depth only as i’ve plummeted deep into the corners of my own mind, begging for someone to notice that im functioning on a distant wavelength.

i look to the sky and observe the clouds, with them they bring heavy rainfall to wash away the marks left behind.

after the rain, i’ll start again.