Missing People Poem by Anthony Fortunato

Some people go missing
they aren't really gone
they just fade away
we start to not matter
as much.
The world
has forgotten us
we want to know
was it real
Knowing it was
hurts much more.

Millions missing.

Feeling less in the present
more of a memory
of ourselves
to ourselves.
We grow cold
bitter
then we start
not to matter
or care
so much.
Not deserving of love
we turn into living ghosts
not really alive
loneliness too solid
and heavy
to be dead.
Is it worse
on the other side?
Perhaps its the same
Souls endlessly looking
for someone
Something to hold on to.

The thinnest gossamer
of hair
still clings closely
to any surface that will have it

We are hopelessly missing people
Save the blessed few
who make it out alive.