Read Poetry: THE INVISIBLE ME, by Willie Carwell

I’m sitting in this crowded room so many voices, so much communication.
But no one sees me. No one speaks to me. I never hear my name. What is it about me they don’t
See? I ask myself as I leave this crowded room with shame.

I’m standing at the playground watching his children at play. Their smiles, innocents and laughter bring so much joy to me, and I breathe in every moment when they ask me to stay.

I’m sitting in my father’s house the people here knows my name. They sing songs about me every Sunday and have communion in order to remember me or so they claim…

Because after the Sunday service is over and there is no more songs to sing. I wait for the church crowd at the play ground but they never come by that way.



Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: