Tell us about a time when you felt out of place.
That feeling, it lingers, like dust in the air,
When all eyes are on you, but no one quite there.
A room full of faces, so foreign, so strange,
Where every glance feels like something to change.
The weight of suspicion hangs like a cloud,
You’re the only one different, and that’s just too loud.
They clutch at their bags, eyes wide with concern,
As if you might take—what?—what would you yearn?
“Can I help you?” they ask, but their words feel so thin,
As if their true meaning is where to begin.
A gesture of kindness, but hollow, unsure,
A line rehearsed, but the warmth is impure.
How I long for a world where it’s different, you see,
Where color means nothing but what you choose to be.
Where I walk into a room, not a target, but whole,
Where all that’s left is the beauty of soul.
But here I stand, in a store of bright gleam,
An unwelcome guest in a wealth-driven dream.
They think I can’t pay for the things that I need,
As if my worth is defined by a different creed.
Oh, how I wish for a time and a place,
Where eyes meet with kindness, not fear or disgrace.
Where I’m just a person, no label, no mask—
Is that too much for this world to
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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