NaPoWriMo 24: Oblivion

It's okay if you forget about me.

I'm not all that memorable.

I'm slight, small and silent.

My face is like the air.

So common, it's forgotten.

Always there, yet overlooked.

I could scream out and cry.

But no one would hear me.

I'm the roots of this tree.

My talent is buried beneath the soil.

Suffocated by circumstance.

My existence is consigned to oblivion.

Do you remember every blade of grass?

Just so, you won't remember me.