Giving Up the Ghost On Broken Wings

Fascinate

To be shade cast by the forms of mortal men
The light cuts around my body
Revealing evidence of times before my presence
It fascinates or am I ghosts?

Without a revelation
Walking a moving line

And when the comatose is finite, will I remember
Important details or will nonsense be my explanation?

All out lives are lies
And when it's conscious
We'll be dead