The Ghost Of Me

The who I was to who I am,
Are worlds apart it seems,
The ghost of me exists because,
This life snuffed out my dreams,
I long for all those moments,
In the past where I stood tall,
Instead of chasing sunsets,
I am reeling from the fall.

The fall that crushed my chances,
Boarding gateways into hell,
The ghost of me just floating,
Like an empty beaten shell,
Nowhere to go, no how to be,
Nor able to respond,
To life that leaves me drowning,
In an open sewerage pond.

And yet a plea does tease within,
It sends me round the twist,
For how can hope be living,
In a world that won’t exist,
Outside the bounds of darkness,
Where a light cracks through a door,
Behind which lies in solitude,
A life that’s never more.

Still madness trickles in my head,
As swords are rusted bare,
Like wounds that bleed a sadness,
For a life no longer there,
The ghost in me exhausted,
From such unrelenting thirst,
Can only muster courage,
For one final desperate burst.

So fast unto the breach I sail,
The ghost in me perplexed,
At why I even bother with,
Emotions fraught and vexed.
Surrender seems the only way,
To break apart these chains,
But still I’m stuck in chaos,
Where the ghost of me remains.

© The Complicated Bunny – 31 Jul 2022