No one saw it;
The shadow in the corner,
Thrown back by light,
But not by an object.
A single shadow,
A deformed black heart.
Why is it there?
No one notices.
The room emptied,
The deed undone.
Tiles marred,
With long black scratches.
Stabbed in the back,
A knife through the heart.
The sky is graying.
Where did we go?
Lost ourselves,
To petty worries.
Outdone ourselves,
With selfishness.
We break and each day,
We die just a little.
Infinitesimally; we don't notice.
We are the waking dead.
Ghosts of who we were,
In childhood, when the world was bright.
We've given ourselves up -
Unknowingly suicidal.
The shadow on our faces,
Like the one in the corner.
Empty as our souls,
Fickle as our minds.
