Drawing the line

I wanted to stamp my feet,

but my legs had gone,

rug pulled from beneath me.

So I am here not stamping,

the vacant noise is deafening,

the virtual dust is flying,

it’s inescapable.

The crippled emotions,

eking there own reply.

I am just a third-party,

Someone in the back story,

Fading faster than a photon hitting the eye after traveling a gazillion miles,

I am redundant to this story I’m in …