You think, if we tore away from us Would we leave much? Would we have such? This life seems so pale, As each breath grows stale, I’m sick of telling my story I’m afraid it’s becoming too gory. With each new step, I take one back, Till eventually I’m moving, In a façade of black, Now you see me, How could this be me? Now you don’t Of course you won’t. I’m permanently invisible, Obstinately visible, Working on a way of life, One that gets me away from strife, Living in a world. Left to it’s own device!