ghosts.

the scientist.

lost his days in furrowed brow. lost his days in the unsympathetic reflective screen of his moniter.
tears glistening, like a river, flowing down the cracks and crevices. not down his hardened face. but down his hardened heart. moistening the fossiled emotions. it isnt his fault. he is a scientist. a man of science. a man of facts. a man of numbers.

a man void of emotions.

it isnt his fault. he is a scientist.

today i realised that everyone has ghosts.