Marion Pellicano Ambrose
I hear the clock tick, slowly, loudly.
The air is hot and close.
Nothing stirs, no one calls,
No one knows I’m here.
I pass a woman in the hall,
Her eyes are blank and dull.
A man climbs the stairs staring blindly ahead.
No one sees me.
I’m invisible, soundless, colorless.
Perhaps I’m dead.
Yes, I think I must be dead. - Anonymous
Too many people can relate to this poem. There are men and women at the office, at your school,or sitting next to you on the bus, who feel that they too are invisable. I had a friend who, even though many people loved and cared about him, felt this way. He ended his life in a hotel room by putting a gun to his head and pulling the trigger. I've asked myself a hundred times since that day "Why didn't I see it coming?" "Were there signs and I just missed them?" I'll never get answers to my questions now, but I know that because of this I will go out of my way any time I suspect someone in my life, my neighborhood,or my acquaintance of feeling detached, alone or sad. I hope I never have to lose another friend to lonliness and despair. I hope you never do either.
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