Invisible

Every laugh is about me.

You pick through my stuttered words with a fine-toothed comb

separating the regrettable nonsense from the overly thought out statement.

Every disapproving eye is locked on

my protruding belly,

soft arms,

and double chin.

Irrationally obsess that everyone

is highly concerned with how I look

and what I say,

but really no one cares.

I wish I felt as invisible as I really am.

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