Somewhere along the line,
I've descended into being a spectator.
Someone who merely observes from the sidelines,
someone who can blend into the crowd – mimicking a laugh, following someone taller, never making a sound.
Somewhere along the line,
(I've lost my voice...?)
I've become uncertain,
afraid a single word might topple an entire concept I'd spent years building,
afraid –
(I've become)
Someone who exists in parenthesis.
An afterthought.
Someone who makes observations on entire sentences,
but never speaks unless spoken to.
Somewhere along that dotted line,
I've fallen through the cracks when I tried peering through them.
Somewhere.
Someone.
I hear.
A voice.
Not mine.
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