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!

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Our dried voices, when we whisper together are quiet and meaningless,

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As wind in dry grass, or rats' feet over broken glass in our dry cellar,

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Shape without form, shade without colour, paralysed force, gesture without motion,

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Those who have crossed, with direct eyes, to death's other Kingdom

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Remember us -- if at all -- not as lost violent souls,

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But only as the hollow men,

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The stuffed men.

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An excerpt from T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men".

Featured image: Eduardo Munoz Alvarez/Getty Images.