Slightly more than see through,
Less now than opaque,
Ghosts of selves wander;
Separated illusions,
Seeking solidity.
My eyes; they see yet
Those who think themselves
Reduced to slivers of wraith.
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Written for the "Mad Verse" micropoetry prompt - this one refused to fit itself into a Tweet sized entry, so I'm posting it here instead. The actual prompt was "ghost of myself", which I played with a little, to produce something - hopefully different - from.
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