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Published: 2009-06-24 22:14:47 +0000 UTC; Views: 44; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 2
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Description
I am but a ghost of my own lifeDrifting here and there,
Merely a specter of my former self.
I am nothing-- I mean nothing.
My very existance could snuff
And barely leave a whisper of smoke in its passing.
Even to my Love, I have nothing of substance to offer.
No more than ink on a page,
She closes the letter, and I disappear.
Would that I could scream my love from these pages,
But to what end?
Only her confusion and heartache-- if even that.
If in Death's embrace I could sleep and feel her arms
Then glad would I be to become Nothing.








