This pale existence

the transparent, colorless soul

No man's land.

Make your mark, wither, cease

In the sights of another, Why?

I asked; You did not respond.

The emotionlessness, empty sentiments

slip through your fingers.

It's such an amusing leisure.

To the forgotten people,

I asked,

Who are you?"

They didn't have an answer.

It wasn't worth speaking of.

it's a fun game to see if your fabrications can sustain you.

What is lost?

It's getting old.