Is this real?
Am I real?
Can you see me?
Or am I just a figment?
A figment of imagination a ghostly figure of nothingness
Something meaning the world to one but something another could simply pass by?
Cause with all the things I hope to be in my life I conceive and can't believe
That you're here with me and can't even see am I invisible to you or just unimportant
Am I a page in your book of life or am I a novel you read at night?
Something you mull over and hold tight in the dark of your room by your desk light?
And when you see me in a room of others do I stand out or stand in the background?
Do you know me?
Can you see?