Wednesday, April 12, 2017

What street does a ghost live on? A dead end.

I am a ghost.

Transparent, empty, faceless
Haunting the living, walking as one of you
You may see my silhouette in the whisperings of trees, or feel my gaze in a song
But you will not find me there, the me you seek is gone.

My body has been replaced by leaden fog thick enough for a knife
I gain no strength from muscle, no stability from bones
There are no walls I can hide behind, no beds where I find rest
There is no escape from life, without the choice of death.