Invisible

I don’t see you.
I don’t hear.
You are invisible to me,
like a god who turns His back
on the soul that once knelt
in trembling prayer.

What did I do?
I gave.
I gave more than I had.
Good deeds not for glory,
but for love,
for you.
But you tossed them aside—
and crowned my enemies
with laughter and gold.

They dance in the light.
I wither in shadows.
They feast.
I fast on fury,
a hunger that grows
into bitterness.

So I left.
Left the noise, the world,
the stage I once stood on
with hope in my hands.
Now I walk unseen—
a ghost in life,
wishing to disappear
before death even knocks.

There is fire under my skin—
anger that whispers,
“This was your fate,
your wasted, twisted script.”
But I did not write this.
I just lived it.
And no one cared
to read the pain
between my lines.

So let me fade,
but remember this:
Even the invisible
once burned
with love
and light.