I’m not a terrible person,
But I have done terrible things.
And I’ve done inhumane things,
Until I became a thing.
I no longer resemble that bright beautiful being you knew.
That person is gone,
Because there is no longer a person here,
Just a ghost with bones and skin.
Growing infinitely smaller, shrinking,
The ghost smiles at you from within
Two deep dark empty eye sockets,
Screaming at you, candles dimly lit in the back.
A skeleton is wickedly dancing
In the dirty mirror before me,
Weightless, laughing, teeth falling out,
Skull cracking, cackling all the way into dust.
I feel my weightless bones whisper
That I am quickly fading.
I smile in acknowledgement,
Drifting away and out of this monotonous orbit.
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