As she closes her eyes, she bears the weight of unseen guilt.
In the shadow of vanishing,
where even forgetting carries a tremor,
she awakens—The Forgotten—slowly,
like a wraith dissolving within herself.
She feels the weight of non-being,
how every word, every breath, every glance slips past her,
as if she is an echo no one wishes to hear,
a whisper lost in forgetting, fading into silence.
Her being, once born from silence before speech,
grows so still, so invisible,
that even existence almost forgets her.
Not by rejection, not by judgment—
but by the slow drift into an abyss of indifference.
In that vacuum, that boundless nothingness,
an unsettling clarity unfolds.
For where others see mere fragments,
she sees the unfiltered web of truth:
the fractures, the lies, the raw existence
as it is—uncloaked by illusion.
She discovers not only the imperfection around her,
but her own vulnerable flaws,
the cracks within her soul,
always hidden behind a mask of control.
That brokenness, so human and aching,
weighs heavily on her spirit—a burden barely borne.
That truth—
heavier than any wing, colder than the void itself—
bends her beneath a weight no one else can carry.
She feels the sharp sting of shame:
she sees what others dare not face,
and becomes invisible herself.
In that uprooting, she withdraws,
veils her eyes with trembling hands,
deprives herself of sight—
not to forget,
but to escape the pain of seeing.
She hides in the shadow,
a shadow once known as home,
not to vanish,
but to shield herself—
from the light that would burn her,
from the pure truth that cuts too deep,
from a world that cannot bear her vision.
So she closes herself off,
not a prisoner from without,
but a guardian of an impossible burden—
a wraith concealing herself,
from herself, from others, from the light.
And in that darkness she waits,
not lost,
but on the edge of something none dare name:
the truth of invisible sight.
~ Cloaked in whispered silence and fragile light of imperfection,
she wanders like a shadow through endless emptiness—
a being without name, without echo, without home. ~
