Unnamed

Inside the lines I am colored in there are scribbles of fear and sketches of pain. Circular strokes of winding doom are hues of lifelessness that shadow the light. There is a texture to my façade that goes against the grain, in everyway imperfection confines me. I draw a likeness to an unseen figure, unable to define it I collapse in this vex. The lines are blurred, smeared with ungrateful eyes, messy and ugly, an inappropriate glare.
Outside my surroundings are strange and lifelike yet not enough to evoke a response. Unable to touch them I merely pass by them, in a sensitive path I walk round the unnamed.