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'She walks through the dark,
With the ghosts of her past.
Breathing the air,
That once coursed through their lungs.
And the trace of her foot,
Treads lightly on theirs.

But there are no ghosts to walk with, no past experiences, no loves to lose. Just a feeling of overbearing loss, not that I've lost anything, but maybe I have, maybe I just lost the chance to be something, something I would have liked to be. Instead I slop and slink my way through life, not doing anything, not achieving anything, all those promises I made to fly free and to be. I never got round to fulfilling them, I have done nothing and am nothing.