Phantom Silhouette
They see my outline, never my core
A silhouette against their expectations.
Their whispers trail behind me like shadows,
Interpretations I never authorized.
I speak in colors they refuse to see,
My words are distorted through their clouded lens.
When I reach out, they flinch from phantom claws,
Reading threats into my outstretched hands.
I am tired of this constant translation,
Of shrinking myself to fit their narrow frame.
The wild truth of me beats against my ribs,
Demanding air, demanding space to grow.
Beyond these walls of judgment and assumption
Lies a world unmarked by their definitions.
I long to shed this skin of their perception,
To step outside and breathe without their gaze.
Not exile, but freedom that I seek
To be neither monster nor myth,
But simply myself, uninterpreted,
Authentic under an open sky.????????????????
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