A Shift

The air fluctuates with your bitter anger

Violent turbulences

In the corners of their vision, which

Are easily ignored

Put down, and treated

As a piece

Of their imaginations


Yet it is through these

Strange, wondrous figments

That you survive

In vibrant, impossible colours

Lush with passion and rich

With invisible music


Always, on the


Waiting to be recognized

As something real


Sometimes, to be considered

A ghost

You just have to be, simply


By K.T.


One comment

  1. slpmartin · July 3, 2010

    Interesting imagery in the poem…a feeling of loneliness colors the poem…thanks for sharing your words.

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