The Backup Soul

Each morning mirrors the last one’s face,

A loop of breath, an empty place.

The body moves, the heart stands still,

A soul untouched by time or will.

The crowd surrounds, but never stays,

Just passing thoughts in fleeting haze.

A name that fades behind the noise,

A shadow not among their joys.

Never picked when hearts decide,

Left outside when doors swing wide.

The comfort held when none are near,

But not the voice they long to hear.

No spotlight ever seems to land,

No hand to reach, no place to stand.

A presence known, but not preferred—

A silent ache, too loud to word.