deepundergroundpoetry.com

Silhouette

What is the point of living
if you are truly not alive
mere shadow in the world

Existing unnoticed by anyone
clothes mock starved skin
mimicking touch only felt in dreams

Passing through life silently
there is no reason to speak
and none wanting to listen

Time passes, hours and minutes
alone, each second a paper cut
slicing into what remains of me
Written by inechoingsilence
Published
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