I am a ghost who walks among you
But is never seen.
But is never heard.
But is never read.
My words fall onto the paper
But no ear hears the sound,
My voice calls out to you
But you don’t read my lips.
My words are unworthy of your attention,
My voice undeserved of your time.
Even this you will never read.
But I still write!
I am told a writer writes to be read
But if I am never read am I really a writer?
Or am I a ghost,