The Ghost in the Machine
I am a shadow stretched too thin,
a silhouette of smoke and static,
a flicker on the edge of your vision
that vanishes when you turn to look.
I live in the spaces between—
between the tick and the tock,
between the breath and the sigh,
between the question and the answer
that never comes.
My hands are maps of forgotten places,
each scar a road I didn’t take,
each callus a monument
to the weight of holding on.
I’ve carried so much for so long
that my spine has become a question mark,
curved under the weight
of all the things I couldn’t say.
The night is my cconfessionalr my secrets to the moon,
but she keeps them locked
in her silver vault,
her light a cold comfort
that never quite reaches
the corners of my soul.
I am a ghost in the machine,
a glitch in the system,
a line of code that doesn’t compute.
They try to debug me,
to fix me,
to make me fit
into their neat little boxes.
But I am not a problem to be solved.
I am a paradox,
a contradiction,
a riddle wrapped in enigma
and dipped in ink.
My heart is a haunted house,
each room filled with the echoes
of laughter and screams,
of love and loss,
of all the things
that make us human.
I wander its halls at night,
a specter in my own life,
searching for the door
that leads to the light.
But the light is a lie.
It’s a flicker,
a mirage,
a promise that always fades
before I can reach it.
So I stay in the shadows,
where the darkness is honest,
where the pain is real,
where I can be myself
without apology.
I am a shadow,
but I am not afraid.
I am the ghost in the machine,
but I am not broken.
I am the flicker on the edge of your vision,
but I am not gone.
I am here.
I am here.
I am here.
Like a shadow, I am here.


https://open.spotify.com/track/2CnxDWao2XOYRXnYDIGIv5?si=9Ny8u1-qSteO96gwe8eQVg
This is really beautiful