Disappearing off the map.
A question mark.
The sign reads where did he go?
Well I just don't know...
I just don't know...
The publicity of a phantom.
Dancing and dangling.
Memories so tempting.
Reaching out to grab them.
But nothing, and more nothing.
A absence what should be there.
A reoccurring flare.
Turbulent waters.
Ups and downs.
What happen this time?
Did he drown?
Thrown overboard.
Washed upon the rocks.
Drifting below the deep blue seas.
A body never found.
The sign reads where did he go?
Well I just don't know...
I just don't know...
Don't suppose I was suppose to.
A misrepresentation.
Not everyday.
Exposure is not my closure.
Though at time it seems to help.
Stress launched across the screen.
The explosion jumps out at you.
Then again the sign reads where did he go?
Well I just don't know...
I just don't know...
I really don't know...
Peace resting in my head.
Waking the dead.
Limbs so limp.
They don't want to move.
But now they have to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A phantom sometimes is just a figment of our imagination. It is when we dwell and harbor it that is when it can seem very real indeed. An inspiring write.