“What’s your name?”, you asked me one time when our glances caught each other on the night of the great ball.
“My name is just a word used to identify but not solely define my identity.”, I answered.
With a smile in your face, you asked “who are you then?”
“I am the shadow in the dark;
With a fading light within.
Rejected by the devils;
But neither is a saint.
I am the flower on the wall;
Left alone to watch.
Blood-stained petals
Quickly withers in a touch.
I am the last bird during the sunset.
The white crayon in the deck.
Misused. Forgotten without regret
I’d rather leave than connect
I am the mystery left unsolved.
The criminal with no conscience to hold.
The murder which time had dissolved.
The victim left beaten. Dead. Cold.
Who am I? I am someone you just recently met. And soon you’ll just forget.
Stuttering 