The queerest thing I know
is living without a soul
and reading the many faces
of those with inner glow.
We soulless shuffle ’round
seeing nothing as profound.
We see with marble eyes
and smile with iron frowns.
One might consider us vampiric
due to Stoker’s verse.
We’re incapable of seeing our reflection
in the eyes of those observed.
The queerest thing to date
is the saddest thing of note,
that dying a living death
robs the world of hope.