I
am
in exile
within my own
existence;
a veiled spectre of being,
existing inside a shell
that does not
quite
>fit<
(much too confining)
It is a soul that drifts
in and out of focus
and lost somewhere
between worlds
of black and white
never attaining
an even shade
of grey.
A creature
trying to
“make do,”
“get by”
and
“cope;”
trying to live
within the confines
of a breathless corpse.
~r.
.
Comments
-
This is especially provocative coming to us in the shape of a funereal urn.
Adding your comment:
