As I sipped my cup of morning tea, and thought over the wispy feelings left by dark dreams, I found myself writing a quick poem. I had become a ghost in my own home. Just a mere shadow watching people I did not know come in and out of my house. No matter how much I screamed or shouted at them to stop to get out!, they just kept throwing what was left of my things away, and went about their business.
It shook me enough this morning to realize I am just passing through life, Im not really living it. Im not doing what Im supposed to be doing. I dont know what I am supposed to be doing, but hiding is most certainly not one of them. I am an int