I'm the memories without words,
the sounds with no scenes,
and the touch of passion.
I am the onlooker as her neighbor bleeds into the pavement,
the ghost that remembers the background,
the flower with no name.
I am the presence in your mind,
that's always forgotten,
the carer but not observed.
I'm backyard football games after church,
awkward outbursting shananagins with friends,
the filling loner.
I am falling off my swing set,
flipping onto a trampoline,
marked with invisible scars.
I am the taunting smile,
the blank stare in the mirror,
the anger you never knew was there.
I'm the fun bird,
kept locked in a cage,
until I've lost a purpose.
I am chinese food with pot,
volleyball on grass,
and the embrace you only dream of.
I am skinny jeans and baggy plaid shirts,
the hidden talent noone would have guessed,
a band youve never heard of.
after all this,
all I know is that I know nothing.