I drift through life
A wraith to all I pass
A scrawny skeletal form
An emaciated cadaver
Barely even there...
Must you be so blind?

My bones
Musty, crumbling
Relinquished braces
Collapsing props
Rotting and shattering
Hardly my supports
I stumble and fall
Tumble to the floor
Plummet to the ground
Crumpling in a dusty mass
A heap of deadened rags
A meager cover from the cold
Barely clinging to my limbs
I cannot even stand.

My legs are feeble, sick, impotent...
My miserable form
Writhing in pitiable squalor
Could I even be a 'human?'
Of course not.
At least, not to you.
For how could you-
If you thought I was-
Treat me with such apathy
Such bitter, indifferent glances
To a being in such pain...

My skin-it sags in dismal flaps
Of dreary, swarthy, bloodless flesh
No longer filled with life
Now merely an insufficient blanket
For the agony it hides.

My heart-
A withered blossom
Once teeming with love and hope
A gleaming source of claret soul
Sweetened dew of faith upon its petals
Now desiccated and inert
Curled in shrunken carcasses
No longer that beating beauty.

My throat, once sweet and mortal
Once filled with flowing air
Now reeks of death and crimson tears-
The very blood of slaughter
It's hardened, blackened...

But I suppose that wouldn't suit me
A sugared heart
Or tender breath
As an undead creature of the night
For what demon needs to breathe
And what monster needs a heart?
For monsters do not feel.

I glide through the shadows
Wafting through the dusky winds
Not making but a sound
How could you even hear me
If I am silent
Such a stilled and silent spirit...
Or so it seems.

When really I am screaming
Wailing with such ache
My eerie cries pierce through the dark
Yearning for someone-
Just someone-
To hear...
I long for you to help me
Or someone, in the least
But my words are voiceless

And without a voice-
How could you heed my moans?
For wraiths-
They remain as wordless corpses-
They are dead-
They are unheard.