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

Edge

Waiting to be recognized

As something real

.

Sometimes, to be considered

A ghost

You just have to be, simply

Redefined.

By K.T.

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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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