A spectral form, unseen, unheard, I drift,
A ghost concealed beneath a pallid sheet.
My chains, a mournful symphony, they shift,
Each clink a testament to bitter defeat.
Past regrets, like shadows, cling and bind,
A haunting echo of a life undone.
My hollow eyes, by sorrow's rain defined,
Reflect a soul forever lost, outrun.
Beneath the white, a fractured spirit lies,
Emptiness reigns, gravity's sway defied.
A broken vessel, drifting through the skies,
In this bright world, a lonely soul inside.
My spectral chains, a heavy, binding weight,
Constrain my form, unseen by mortal sight.
Transparent, frail, I wander, desolate,
A phantom lost within the world's bright light.
Unwelcomed, shunned, my presence goes unseen,
My words, like whispers, lost upon the breeze.
The grip of pain, a constant, cruel routine,
My memory fades, lost among the trees.
Forgotten faces blur, beloved and lost,
Love's gentle hand, a fading, sweet perfume,
Time's relentless hand, it counts the cost,
My essence fades, dissolving in the gloom.
My spectral form grows weak, my strength does wane,
My whispered plea, unheard in realms of day.
A fading echo in the sunlit rain,
I drift and vanish, silently away.
No longer bound by sorrow's cruel embrace,
Released at last from memories' cruel sting,
I find my peace in this ethereal space,
The unseen specter, fading on the wing.
My ghostly touch, a whisper in the air,
A silent sorrow, haunting, yet serene.
No longer bound by anguish or despair,
My fleeting presence, barely to be seen.
The world forgets, as time's swift currents flow,
Yet in the silence, peace at last I find.
My spirit lingers, gentle, soft, and low,
A whispered memory left behind.
I am the unseen specter, pale and thin,
Released from chains, my journey's at an end,
From pain and sorrow, finally I win,
My journey done, my suffering transcend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem