They walk past it on the side walk,
sometimes they speak to it as though it still exists,
They see the dust of what it used to be,
and can feel the future that it will never have,
It had ambitions,
they no longer matter after the Earth took such luxuriances away.
The wind drags it into the night air,
where no one will see it.
It's shoes will be overflowing with the dust that was once flesh.
It's memories will carry on,
as those who had encountered it,
their memories deteriorate.
This is a future fretted over needlessly.
The idea that i am but a number,
one in billions.
one day i will disappear into the crowd,
my remains nothing more than a ghost of what I once once.