I walk alone in a crowded world,
silhouette unseen,
where time has passed without a trace
that I had one time been.

There are no steps left behind,
no trail to show my way,
and when the sun should set again
I leave only another day.

Futility has drained my soul,
and truth my simple sight!
My passing garners naught
yet saps inherent might.

Amassed in soul dejection,
even then I am minute,
for all that may have once been said,
is rendered unseen and mute.