A Ghost, A Shell

there is no emptier crescent of feeling

than wandering through unfeeling, unending crowds, 

more alone than you ever have felt 

in your lifetime.

the darkness fights to consume you,
it swallows reality and twists your mind,
enveloping you in storms of your own making.
you’re a ghost, a shell of your former self that’s crumbling away.

you question your will to go on, and how.
just because they can’t see the pain, doesn’t mean you don’t feel it.
you see the light, but it’s so far away
yet here you march on, day after day.

This poem is about: 


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