My chest burns as I pound on the glass

It feels like living in a silent movie

I can see you; can't you see me?

Can't you hear me?

My fists turn rosy as the glass refracts my knuckles

The room feels a lot smaller than when I entered

It feels emptier as I watch the crowd join you on the other side

With my bleeding knuckles I draw stick figures

Creating my own crowd to socialize with

Even if they cannot see me

I know you can