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Invisible Man

A lonely figure in the crowd,
Concealed as if beneath a shroud,
In open sight, yet seldom viewed,
Exists in public solitude.
Perhaps his soul is racked with care,
With quiet angst and bleak despair.
He finds this empty life grotesque,
Devoid of meaning, Kafkaesque.
And so he skulks in dull ennui,
Good looking, yet so hard to see.
Alas, it seems he’s dead inside.
So ask not, “Why does Waldo hide?”



  1. Steve wrote:

    Very well done!

    Tuesday, October 2, 2012 at 4:03 am | Permalink
  2. Scott wrote:

    Thanks, Steve!

    Tuesday, October 2, 2012 at 9:32 am | Permalink

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