I stand outside the window,
My reflection shimmers with every movement, as if I'm a wraith and nothing more.
Nothing substantial.
And it threatens to disappear from both my view and everyone else's.
I stand there and stare at their circle of friends; I can never be a part of it, though my heart strings pull painfully at every word that they speak and my muscles strain with unheard frustration.
My lips move, but no words come out and I try to shout, but I'm encased in a cold, hard shell.
Despite all the friendliness I try to employ, I'm shut down like I'm some sort of freak.
And, sure, they'll say some polite hellos, but they just remain out of reach, behind that window.
I stand outside the window, looking in, but I can't ever join in because I can't be accepted,
For who I am.