Strange shapes
I see the figures passing before me
They are souls that have already died
And they think they're still people
Living their mean lives
Sad or contented
They are lonely ghosts
Wander through the vastness
From a life of sin and a life of forgiveness
The light they left no longer leads them
Now they live overwhelmed
Each one with its cross
Maybe I'm dead, too.
How are these sad people
And my memory only remembers who I am
💙
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