I feel like a ghost in the machine
I’m here as me, but not real
To the rest
I believe when Im told
However, maybe because I’m a empath
The pain I hold is sometimes more than mine
I am a friend, a comforter, a confidant
Yet, truth be told
I’m just a place holder
A substitute
For “real”, held in place by
Emotions that seem real
However, are they, really?
Or, just a ghost like me
To talk to
Share with
Then
Gone
I logged in
You were off line.

An Original Poem by H.R. Beebe