Shadow Slaves

A cacophony of shadows, and all I feel is fear, because I've come here to die once before; terrified this time a silhouette makes its way to stay - all the grey area has left me a shadow, and everyone knows shadows are distorted reflection, uninspired and cast - actors.

In the brightest point of day they grow ahead or follow, regardless, slaves of the sun, they expose the darkness that remains within.

A body may create from that darkness, but a shadow is a slave. Reduced to a shallow shade of what I used to be, inspired, enlightened, even frightened.

Here I find nothing left for me to create but everything left to destroy, my words mere echoes of past experiences.

Without her faith, I have no magic left to turn my tales of trauma into essays of conviction, poems of a purposeful past, or meaningful memories.

My future has turned to ash, and without her I shy down to a shadow.