I am a ghost among men,
the past, the now, and the then;
a wandering spirit, an apparition
undaunted by the thought of time.
I fear my presence is unknown
to those anchored, shackled by
what is true, or what may be false.
Nonetheless, I am born alone.
The feeling of loneliness,
to become something of memory,
it pains me in my nightly rest,
as I stare into a void so empty.
A cavernous abyss that leads
into the darkest depths
of my eternal soul, my mortal heart;
a shattered spirit in a fragmented sky.
And as I watch from my astral plane,
my death, and those who mourn,
it brings sorrow, which brings forth
the bane of my existence, of the sort.
I step into the abyss, but there is no light
only darkness, nothing more or less.
I was lured into believing that something so vast,
so extraordinary, lay beyond my distress.
Only to be disappointed to the furthest degree,
as now I lay restless, wandering aimlessly
through an unseen veil in the shards of time;
a diminished reality, lost and betrayed.
I conclude my journey among men,
though the memory still haunts me
of my many unfinished songs,
and sweet poetry—
that shall follow my being
through endless eternity.
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