I stare at those.
Downtrodden, disgusted
Scrounging for life
Seething for love
I pity my conscience
That of pity itself
Who are you to me?
More than a nobody?
Never far away,
Lonesome, unaccompanied,
Perennially chimeral,
She weeps.
Solitary solitude,
She dances,
Dances in the hope of moments foregone,
Wails.
Eyes moist and gaze fixated,
She clings on,
Vacuous void.
It is she who keeps bothering herself.