How long have I been here?
The ink shadows have not moved
Perhaps they never do
In this light that seeps into the world.
I know it does not touch me
I am a blank space on the wall
A word erased, waiting for the writer to think of a better one
Standing in this hall of concrete.
Have I always been here?
I might one day try to move
Steal away into the dying light of dusk
The only problem is I can’t tell when this day will end.