I bleed though the cracks of existence
I am air without lift
A thought without mind
I am a voice without lips
I am the words carried with the wind
The whispers that find your ear
The whimpers that echo through time
The hurtful yells that no one heard
I am the snapshots of life
The freeze frames of death
The photos of history
All of which were never seen
I bleed without blood, air without lift
A thought without mind
A voice without lips
I am but a memory
BY OSCAR TORRES LEON
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