The Hoards of Us

Such a compelling derangement of ourselves

Can live in the minds of others


One who seems nameless

Sanctified within the cleansing of recollection

Or sometimes, the darkest ash


One to conquer

One to suffer


The heavy hand

that hammers the brow

Or the face rendered unrecognizable

By the trauma it wears


Much like a shriek being of elation

Or pain

And hard to differentiate


Yet we can be both of these

None of these

Or lost entirely in countless minds

Becoming a mere extra

In the dreams of strangers

Unforgotten yet unrecognizable

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