I am a balloon.
I keep a couple people happy for a time.
Then drift off into the unknown or deflate and be tossed aside.
I'll be forgotten, always forgotten.
I'm a ghost.
I am there but only seen by few.
I see everyone, everything.
I hear, touch, feel, smell, but I'm not actually there.
I am remembered by few.
I'm a tree.
I can heal others but they'll write on me.
Sometimes it'll be x hearts y.
Other times, it will be their sad truths that can't be changed.
I tell no one.
I am the life that no one keeps but always uses.
I'm a book.
There are many words that I can share, few read and even fewer listen.
Only likes by some but easy to destroy.
I am forgotten, used and destroyed but waiting for it all to happen again.
I am here but barely, listening but only kind of, surrounded by people but alone, living but lifeless.
I am existing but lost.
