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.
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