Ghost

I feel like a ghost
Caught between two worlds
Never sure where I belong
Or which one I am in

I am the cardboard box in the far corner of your attic; gathering cobwebs and dust; once filled with memories and treasures once held dear; now sealed with duct tape and on the to do list of things to clear

Or maybe I am the dust; sometimes settling for years but eventually disturbed; settling here and there but never for long

Or maybe I am the feather drifting in the wind; once belonging; had a purpose but now discarded belonging only to the wind

Or maybe I am a ghost; the thing in your peripheral vision; you catch it look back and then its gone