The Crowd That Isn't Listening Poem by Winter Moyer

I yell out amongst the crowd
A swirl of faces strewn around
A plea through half executed fashion statements
I search for intrigue on their faces
I scan the room for the effect of my plea
This effect I do not see

All they see is the guise
Hidden, under my clothes
A wretched outfit of flesh, hair, and bone
They don't see how I feel all alone

I try to call out again
To the crowd that now feels so intense
I try to keep my plea quiet
So that only the right members might hear it
But still I find no one to come near it

I wish to curse this abhorrent spell
That sent me to my unassuming hell
This fleshy meat sack and the fear within
To come out and say who I am
To not care if the crowd gives a damn