I am an Invisible Man.
Known to be a ghost,
and not be seen by the people,
who walk the streets.
I am Invisible to the naked eye.
Seen only at night,
I find myself the most incapable,
of falling in love with the sweet Maiden,
That I first laid eyes on,
at the University steps.
I sit in my dark room,
A ghost in my own habitat.
Living with my dead friends.
Poe, Hemingway, Elliot,
They all keep me company in my time of Invisibilty.
I am Invisible to the naked eye,
and she doesn't notice me.
My portrait Lady,
That I paint everynight in my mind.
She doesn't notice me, for I am a ghost.
Who does not belong in the mortal world.
I am an invisible poet,
who writes with invisible ink.
My words are endless, but mean nothing to you,
for I am an Invisible Man.
Copyright © Chris Boskovski