The Ghost
In this world I sought for,
who I am and many more;
without a reason but a treason.
I without a life, but with a life and none;
to live is profound, much greater is death.
If I could confound, it is that I'm not worthy
for life and for death.
Do I confined myself within my chamber,
to count the days till I remember?
Who am I? Who am I?
Who am I to curse myself so freely, so easily?
A ghost with a reflection,
with no hope, no resurrection.
I encumber my tears
with all things I fear,
there is no end for which I dream.
-A.M. Snow
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