Who are we?
An ever changing being?
No name, no face.
A figure as soft as a breath
In the morning chill.
Absorbing into nothing,
A phantom in a world of ghosts.
We have a spine,
But it is so easily broken,
That it is useless.
We have a body,
As fragile as glass.
It is pointless.
So I would rather be a breath,
and I would rather be a ghost.
I would rather be a being,
Invincible from the sorrows of man,
What a dream that is!
But we are broken beings,
And we always will be.
Until we become the breath invisible in the air.
Until we no longer know who we are.
Until we absorb into the nothing.