This is for the invisibles.
The boy with the world reflecting in the pools of his eyes,
and the ache to escape trembling in the pits of his chest.
The mother with rain trickling down her face
because of the purple bruises on her arm in the shape of a heart.
The ones who can’t get away
tied down to earth by a noose
tightening around their neck.
Sheltered from the sun and the moon and the starry skies
with no eyes dry
and the needing and wanting and yearning
to be anywhere else but there
where life is unfair and hope is bare
and people look at you like you’re from a different planet
just because you know how things are supposed to be.
And you think how much you’d rather live
on Jupiter or Saturn, encompassed by rings of gold
and little balls of stardust
reading books from the light of the moon.
Being so close to heaven you can feel the faith
on your cold, brittle skin.
The people who only want one thing,
This is for them.