Written by: Isioma West

It is empty and cold here
Even with all these people.
Like a big blur in the corner
I stand and watch the commotion.
They laugh, they smile, they speak
And no one remembers me
No one acknowledges me.
It is dark
Even though there are lights everywhere.
And I, the shadow; the ghost; the figment of imagination...
I watch.
And watch.
And then it is truly dark.
Everyone is gone and I stand.
It is truly warm.
And the silence is the loudest commotion of all.