Some benefit can come
from being a phantom
like frolicking
in the auras
of the benevolent and beloved
to easily escaping
from those 
who try to trap you
in their own 
loathsome miasma
but sometimes 
the loneliness 
is haunting.


we are all mauled lions
hunting to regain our pride
questioning whether we can be heard
because often none roar back
when we are loudest in our pain
we only hear the drum  of shame on the wind
and feel the stinging reek of guilt
from those we ran with in the good times
when the sky was light blue, coral and ochre
but when the darkness descends
in jet, midnight and fog
they are scared to acknowledge us
scared they will be tainted
scared their roars won’t be answered
yet to realise
we are all mauled lions.