Nameless

Soundless in desperation are the voices of fury, 

Absent in the carefree betrayal of friendship, 

Unheeded by the frivoulous crowd, 

I sit and write the story of my grief. 

The days move on, like rows of ants upon a white paper, 

Leaving footprints on the blank canvas of my youth, 

A leaf i am, torn from a book called life, 

Lost in the wilderness of earth.