Time ticked on as I waited patiently
I could see my presence beginning to thin
When will you ever think of me?
Is acknowledging my presence such a sin?
My fingers flickered under the luminescence of the light
I'm fighting so hard to hang on tight
I'm trying to reach out for you
Yet you don't even have a clue
I have a voice, yet left unheard
I'm screaming, crying, thrashing
Yet you couldn't hear a single word
My ghost is just what's left of me
Maybe it really is the time for me to leave
So as there is no trace of me left to find
It's better to just leave me behind
YOU ARE READING
Stanza
Poetry"IT'S POEHTIHC" Said the nut, who's one of the authors of this book. "...YOU BAKA, FOINE" Was what the potato, the other author, replied as she laughed and wondered what's wrong with them. This book is a compilation of poems made by two weird author...
