Noticed

I lived my life, most often, like a ghost,

ethereal, drifting from room to room,

a chill chasing me from pillar to post.

Rippling across the senses of those whom,

in solitude, sought meaning in their life

before they passed beyond it to the tomb.

I was not noticed by them, or my wife

who gladly let me rest in silent shade

whilst stab...

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