That Boy is a Pane of Glass

That boy is a pane of glass,
He is seen right through with ease.
That boy is a blade of grass,
Unable to stand among the trees.

That boy is an old floor mat,
Unseen as you step in the door.
That boy is a plank of wood,
An identical piece of the floor.

That boy leaves no impression,
Forgotten as soon as his words are done.
That boy never shows his aggression,
For it would be noticed by no one and none.

That boy is a shadow at night,
Unremarkable, barely pronounced.
That boy is an infrared light,
Invisible data left all unannounced.

That boy is a poem unfurled,
Unread ’cause it’s crumpled and dirty.
That boy is alone in the world,
With no one to ask where it’s hurting.

That boy is a pane of glass.
A victim of thousand-yard stares.
That boy is a pane of glass.
And no one fucking cares.

(Image Credit)