03

Not dead but somehow still a ghost
I through these haunted hallways pass
Unseen by all, unheard by most
A stranger’s statue made of glass

And who was here? Not I, not me
Some other’s feet disturbed this dust
Some other’s shadow did you see
I moved the air, but only just

I’m nothing you will recollect
Nor block the light that meets your eye
The memories that you collect
Have no space for such as I

I from my mother’s breast was torn
And buried alive when I was born

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About MishaBurnett

I am the author of "Catskinner's Book", a science fiction novel available on Amazon Kindle. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008MPNBNS
This entry was posted in On Writing, Poetry, Who I am and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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