inner art journal

my storyless day 
the closer I look
the more there is to see
the less there is
of me?
  
traipsing through the world 
a marionette
big smile, hollow identity
hoping if I move fast enough
no one will notice

white sugar – refined
stripped of color and fiber
sweetness, but no substance
is this what it is to be nice 
and nothing else?

invisible ink
revealed only in the right light 
what light reveals me?
I struggle to find that light within
can invisibility reveal itself?