Specter Shell

.

There's a pain in my chest

It's been there as long as I can remember.

It weighs heavy on my eyes and sucks the energy from

The marrow of my bones

And despite the passage of years, it never gets any better.

.

It devours the rigidity in my joints and makes me feel

As if I have no skeleton at all.

This is my default state, which is more like a lake

Or a puddle of some observant ghost.

.

No definition or personality of my own

Just a reflection or an echo of others around me

Whose liveliness and strength is something I admire

Yet am unable to embody with any envy.

.

I try to take form, and I do what I can

To fit in like the others do so naturally.

I pump adrenaline through my veins and force

Some semblance of substance to fill my outline

But it's only temporary and always fades away eventually.

.

After enough of these painful trials, I hide away long-term

Than to have to pretend that I belong in the human realm

Where I am not fooling anyone.

To interact from afar and to utilize my talents

To make some sort of lasting artistic contribution

Shall be at the helm in which I traverse

This evanescent existence.