I am the invisible woman.
My name is ‘I Don’t Know’.
I am nothing and nobody
going no place in particular.
My body is made from mediocrity and wasted potential.
There are bruises on my invisible soul from all the times someone’s looked into my invisible eyes and seen right through me.
There are sores on my invisible brain from all the times it’s been filled with visible worth in the form of hospital socks and bad grades.
There are blisters on my invisible hands from writing invisible words for invisible poems
performed in front of visible people with visible thoughts and visible smiles
who think they understand the sounds as they spill out of my invisible mouth and into their visible ears.
I wipe my invisible tears on my invisible arm
and send invisible texts
to visible people
asking for help
I wear my invisible heart on my invisible sleeve that no one can see
because I am still invisible.
Because I am the Invisible Woman.