Within this world
There are things
Things we love, and hate
And some of these things
are not things at all
rather they’re people
life, life that moves, breaths and thinks
Some lives have been killed
yes, they still walk, breath, and think
but inside, the very matter, is gone
A Walking outline, that’s all they are
They try to find things to color within the lines
But everything they try ends up fading away
Walking through life without substance
Tripping over their own outline
Some never fill the lines, and fade away them selves
some fill it with false color
a transparent paint
though the outline is full, there is still no substance
and then there are those who find their color
to finally fill their outline
and live life with substance