Short Poem #4

Some days I rise, though barely so, And wear a smile I do not know. The sun still climbs, the birds still sing, But none of it means anything. I watch the world from far away, A muted film in shades of gray. And though the crowd moves all around, I swear I never make a sound. Some days I breathe just to exist, And fade like morning’s fragile mist. I’m here — yet never truly near, A ghost that no one sees or hears.