I often feel like a ghost
Like I’m not really here,
But rather, just passing through
I have to remind the same people
The same things —
Again and again, and yet again
As if I wasn’t around,
The first few times I mentioned it
Maybe I’m not that interesting?
Maybe I speak in foreign tongues?
Maybe I’m just so clear,
That everybody else
Just sees right through me
© Dicky J Loweman 2015