The famous, they are everywhere.
Aware of the shadows but, there is this light
Beautiful, though there is this other side.
But it is present.
Is it that important to know, or not to know?
Their existence will not be unseen – unlike mine
So less people will ever know me
or even know that
You will not know me, you assume that
but it’s all hollow, and numb and empty
My words, my soul, like me.
Will always live in the twilight of the shadows.
But honestly, I don’t know if it matters
maybe it doesn’t after all.