My life is made of shadows;

It’s elegant and spare,

And best defined, perhaps, by all

That isn’t really there.

.

The shadows of the heart and mind,

The garden wall, the floor,

And all the other places light

Can’t get to

Anymore

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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