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i dont exist

If I strain, I can hear the laughter
Through my  groggy half asleep dream.
The sounds of joy and jubilation
That I cannot participate in even after
Myself in front of them I have tried to redeem.

The sounds echo in this majestic house,
The noise made by young and old alike
As I float around aimlessly like a ghost
My voice heard like a whisper, as meek as a mouse,
Will they notice if I just ride away on my bike??

I try to talk to them time and again,
My voice comes garbled
Am I an alien to my own kind??
It feels like I'm on a tether of my own making- I am in chains
The sounds of joy like music...they've even taken care of the warble...

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