Grammatically Correct, Not Politically

I've been trained to think in pronouns. All around the crowd inconspicuously passes (and I let everything pass me) in a blur of he, she, it. I walk around in a world full of things- nothing, something, everything- head all filled with questions concerning the who, what, when, why, how... What if we pretended for a second, some time, that what is ours never was and theirs will never be? Yours and mine are two of many and that just makes them some. Few can live in a world like ours, but many seem to do just fine.

They cogitate vague ramblings.

Traces of people, places, and things. Ghosts of nouns. Verbal hauntings.