How am I a ghost,
Yet I am not dead?
Living and skulking in their shadows
While my life is terribly hollow.
Why are my joys tied to theirs
And my grief doubly so
Why am I weighed by a guilt of theirs
Yet their wrongs I do not know
In becoming part of the whole,
Did I lose myself,
Did I leave my individuality on the shelf
For these formless beasts to sell.
What happened to the soul that lived within,
When was its flame snuffed out,
when was it snapped from being?
This dead form clearly does not belong.
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