No One

Walking the streets up and down, my own image fades on car mirrors. A wandering ghost with no bound, sadly cut by invisible scissors. What in life I would call disgrace, come to me in sharp knives. This cold winter that eats my face, with no color and no jives. And even the more I try to scape, there is no run away for me, from this vague space called life. No matter what path I shall take, I find no one there but thee, for the no one me lacking rife.