Waved hand,
Eye contact,
"Good morning", or
"Good afternoon".

Nothing matters, nothing heard.
What's seen and heard was nothing but air.

Hurt and angry, hundreds of rants
But if met or talked, soft and meekly,
my voice would scream.
Don't know how,
guess this should be.

Or yet... this is me.
Gave my palm, it gave the other.
The other whose head is on another.

Silent cries, seen as invisible.
Silent screams, just wants to be seen.
Appreciation, should be the least.

But why an approval?
When I have 'em
So good, so kind.

Taught me kindness, though buried with pain,
stabbed by hate.
Yet, looking back, all I see...
Is us and them, with our friendship.
I feel no pain, felt no hatred.

Now I see, they grew me.
Goodness' seed within it, is in
But just, still... don't exist.