The Ghosts We See

They pass you by but you do not see, rather you want not to see. The ghosts that are alive but not through their eyes, life is a struggle, just passing by, unseen, unnoticed.

But I see, I see the long unkempt hair and the unshaven face, the sockless feet in shoes that are too big. I see the empty stare as you walk forward through the crowd, always forward, always ignored until you are nothing more than a living ghost. Fleeting glimpses as they look up from phones, from the cracks in the pavements they would rather look at, too many reminders, too much pain that they could be you, look away, do not see, pretend all is well with the world.