I am a lot to contend with

I overheard all the stories

You told to get a laugh

Clever teachers do this

Each time there were two

Two ways I could choose

I could hear myself

Described as a bright lad

Or as an invisible boy

We never had to worry about him

What does that even mean?

Is it that you couldn’t go looking?

Or that you couldn’t be bothered?

It’s just unlike any other feeling

To see that there is no response

When you appear after being lost

And you expect a big hug

Or you expect a firm scolding

But instead no one knew I was gone

And so I am then the only one

Who ever must contend with me

I have no choice

And you were wrong

You should have worried

Fretted to death

Should have prayed and prayed

Because I was not, am not fine