In shadows where no names are known,

A silent figure walks alone.

No gaze to meet, no past to tell,

A ghost beneath a fragile shell.

A whisper lost within the crowd,

A face unmarked, a head unbowed.

No tethered ties, no binding claim,

No story shaped by given name.

Freedom wears this hidden face,

A drifting soul in endless space.

No judgment cast, no heavy frame—

No weight of praise, no bite of shame.

Yet in this cloak of unseen grace,

A longing stirs for warm embrace.

To be unknown is safe, it’s true—

But sometimes, we crave being you.