We Are The Hollow Men
We are the stuffed men.
We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men, leaning together, headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless,
As wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar,
Shape without form, shade without colour, paralysed force, gesture without motion,
Those who have crossed, with direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom
Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost violent souls,
But only as the hollow men,
The stuffed men.
An excerpt from T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men".
Featured image: Eduardo Munoz Alvarez/Getty Images.